Chapter Text
Ignis was seven when he shattered the previous top score for the advanced-placement test. He couldn't help thinking the adults were all making a big deal out of nothing, because it wasn't that hard of a test, but he understood that it meant they'd decided he was some level of genius, and he was fully aware that they were going to take advantage of it.
He was placed in an accelerated learning program, and tested out of that several years later, long before his peers.
Ignis was ten when he finished what amounted to secondary school and began working for the crown. He started training to be the king's next political adviser. There was a chance he wouldn't take the job for several more decades, since the current adviser was not all that old and there didn't need to be two of them. There was also a chance that he would never serve as King Regis' adviser, as the man was getting older every day (almost noticeably, on stressful occasions), but it was assumed-- or hoped, at least-- that the king would have an heir, and Ignis would serve them.
In fact, the king did have an heir, when Ignis was fourteen-- a little boy they named Noctis. Unfortunately, his mother didn't survive childbirth, and there was a period of mourning for her, and for the king, and for the prince who would grow up without a mother (as Regis claimed tearfully but vehemently that he would never take another queen). Nobody mourned for the nursemaids who spent the next few sleepless months trying to calm a child who seemed to know that something was wrong. And nobody mourned for Ignis, because they couldn't expect what would come to pass.
What first came to pass was a small family emergency that the prince's current nursemaid desperately needed to see to. She was a dependable sort, and nobody had expected her to shirk such an important duty (though nobody blamed her for it; family was important, after all), so there hadn't been a second maid on hand to take over. The woman hurried into the library, where she rightly expected to find Ignis, and shoved the squirming little baby into his arms before explaining the situation in as few words as possible.
He didn't have the chance to ask 'why me?' because she was gone before he could get the first half-syllable out, but he asked Gladio when he found the young man in the training room, a frantic twelve minutes later.
“Well, you're smart,” Gladio said with a shrug. “She probably figured you could handle it.”
It wasn't that Ignis couldn't handle it-- probably-- since he was, after all, some level of genius, but it wasn't something he'd had much experience with, and he said as much. “Gladio, I have never held a baby in my life. And this is the prince. Shouldn't he be with someone a little more suited to caring for his needs?”
Gladio picked up his sword (he'd dropped it when Ignis had come rushing at him with a baby in his arms) and carried it over to the armor rack before coming closer. “Hey, in an emergency, you take what you can get. Here, let me have 'im.”
Ignis gladly handed the child over and watched in gentle amazement as Gladio cradled him expertly in the crook of his elbow. Noctis even seemed to find the position comfortable, as he stopped squirming and whining. “You're rather good at this,” Ignis mentioned, folding his arms as he tried to study what his friend was doing.
“Comes with practice,” Gladio said. “I've got a little sister at home. Used to have to take care of her a lot, and she always wanted to be held before she'd fall asleep. This guy's not so bad.”
“Huh, I didn't know you had any siblings.” Although Ignis considered Gladio a friend, there were still quite a few things they'd never spoken about. The two had met not long after Ignis had begun working for the crown, when it had been suggested that he start learning to fight, since the king's adviser was a target for assassination almost as often as the king himself. After he'd passed most of the basic courses and a few advanced ones, he was paired with Gladio for training.
The other kid was maybe a year older than him, and the same amount taller, but easily twice as muscular already. At only twelve years old, he'd already looked like he could fend off a few magitek troopers, let alone your average soldiers. It was to be expected; the same way that Ignis was training to be the king's next adviser, Gladio was training to be the king's next shield-- his personal bodyguard. It was a line of work that ran in the family, apparently.
The two of them spent quite a lot of time together after that-- training, of course, but also some of whatever leisure time they had. They were the only people their age who worked this closely with the royal family, so simply by virtue of those two things (age, and their shared understanding of what it was like to be in service to the crown) they were bound to get along at least somewhat well. It helped that Gladio was funny, kind, and far smarter than his looks would give him credit for. He was dedicated to his training, loved to read, and-- apparently-- got along well with children.
Furthermore, he seemed to like Ignis too, which was a surprise to the young adviser-to-be, because adults always liked him well enough, but kids his age didn't seem too keen on being around him. It had to do with how the common description of him had changed as he'd neared adulthood: as a child, he'd been “precocious”, which had turned into “capable” as a young teen. He understood that the next step was something along the lines of “cold”, but apparently it wasn't something that bothered Gladio, as they became friends without much effort.
On this particular day, while they watched over the little prince, Ignis made an effort to ask further questions about Gladio's family, as it was something that hadn't occurred to him (Ignis didn't have much family to speak of himself) but was clearly important to his friend. Gladio happily told stories about his father and sister and various cousins, in between teaching Ignis how to take care of a fussy infant.
The nursemaid came back a few hours later, overflowing with apologies which stopped abruptly when she realized that Noctis was laughing and smiling at the two teenagers, who were sitting on the floor of his room and dancing him around with a moogle plushie. She sighed heavily (relief, Ignis was sure), and thanked them profusely before taking the prince and freeing them of the obligation of looking after him any longer. She must have told someone about the situation, however, because it was not the last time that a nursemaid asked one of the boys to watch Noctis for a while. It became a fairly common event, and although Ignis would never have expected to add childcare to his repertoire, he became rather good at it, and even came to look forward to being interrupted by nursemaids who just wanted a short break. If nothing else, it was an hour per day that he could spend with Gladio, who'd given him express instructions to call him if he needed (or wanted) help with the kid.
Maybe things could have gone on this way, and Ignis would later sometimes wonder how life could have been between the three of them-- a prince and his two older friends; a king, his adviser, and his shield-- but they never had the luxury of finding out.
It was a few weeks before the crown prince's first birthday, which also was to serve as his public name-day, and the two teens were helping plan the celebrations. At the moment, they were making a valiant effort to figure out what Noctis' favorite color was-- a silly and probably-futile endeavor which mostly consisted of them setting up brightly colored toys around the room and seeing which one he crawled towards. Nine times out of ten, it seemed his favorite color was “Ignis” or “Gladio”. The tenth time was never consistent. It wasn't very informative, but it had the three of them laughing.
“Let's just go with black,” Gladio eventually suggested, when an hour of this didn't give them any definitive answer. “It is the official royal color.”
Ignis raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “A little morbid for a toddler's birthday decorations, don't you think?”
“So, what? Another royal color? Purple's royal.”
“Most people would probably choose blue in this case.”
Gladio huffed and leaned back on his arms. “Well that's a little cliché.”
Ignis was about to agree but counter that being cliché didn't necessarily make blue a bad choice, when he caught sight of Noctis, who had toddled off to a toy at the back of the circle (grey) but was now taking wobbly but meaningful steps towards the door-- in Ignis' direction. Ignis was surprised out of his response, almost to the point of complete speechlessness, though he managed a quiet, shocked, “Gladio, his eyes.”
“Yeah, I guess that's enough reason to choose blue,” he said. “It's kind of a dark blue though. Might be nicer if we went with something brighter.”
But Ignis was hardly aware of what Gladio was saying. He scrambled to his feet in a hurry, eyes still locked on the little prince, who was making his way to the door, arms outstretched-- as if he were chasing something-- eyes glowing a brilliant pink.
Gladio picked up on Ignis' fear and rushed to him, turning to face whatever he was looking at. He gasped through his nose when he saw what had his friend on edge, and took the few adult-sized steps across the room needed to intercept Noctis before he could let himself out into the corridor.
“Whoa buddy,” he said, scooping the toddler up into his arms. “I don't know what kind of spirit you're talkin' to, but you can't go wandering off by yourself.”
Ignis joined him before he even had Noctis properly situated. He came up close to the prince's face and watched as the light faded, leaving his eyes their normal deep blue. “What in Eos was that?” he asked faintly.
“I didn't really think it was true,” Gladio began, shifting Noctis to better accommodate his squirming. “But my dad told me once about the kings being able to talk to gods and things. Said he saw King Regis do it once, and his eyes glowed. I thought he was pulling my leg, but I guess not.”
Quite a few thoughts ran through Ignis' mind at that explanation, not least of which was surprise that there had apparently been a god in the room, but what he said with a shaky laugh was, “Well, then. Maybe we ought to pick magenta for the decorations.”
Gladio had about two seconds to laugh at that before they heard the first explosion.
What followed was chaos.
Instinctively, they rushed from the room, out into the hallway, hoping to find the source of the commotion, or someone who had answers. Everyone they passed on their way out into the courtyard was as confused as they were. Soldiers were rushing about, most in the direction of the sound, and it wasn't for another minute and a half that they heard the second explosion. This one was followed quickly by a third, a fourth, another, until it was a cacophony of ballistic noise coming from all directions.
The screams mingled with the detonations and echoed throughout the city, though they were muffled slightly inside the palace where Ignis and Gladio stood, momentarily frozen as they frantically tried to decide what the protocol was for such a situation.
“Shit,” Gladio said, looking at least as stricken as Ignis felt. “Shit. Ignis, what do we do?” He looked down at the baby in his arms, who was trembling and crying thinly. The little prince may not have understood even as much as they did, but he knew it was distressing. “Should we take him somewhere? A safe room or something?”
“I don't know, I'm not sure,” Ignis said, glancing around at the madness around them. They could see smoke rising from buildings a few blocks away, and even as they watched, airships came onto the scene, sporting Imperial insignias. The kingdom of Lucis had never been on particularly good terms with the Niflheim empire, but there'd been no talk of hostilities any time recently that he could recall. He wondered if he'd been kept out of those meetings, still considered too young? “If it's come to this, we can't stay here. We need to get Noctis out of the city.”
Gladio didn't argue or second-guess Ignis' decision. “Right,” he said, and began to lead the way.
Even as he followed him, though, Ignis wasn't sure of his own choice. Did it show a lack of loyalty? A lack of faith in their king and their soldiers to get them through this attack? Their grand city was both beautiful and strong, and the kingsglaive should be able to fend off Imperial soldiers, enough at least to secure the palace. But he could see them rushing about, Imperials surging up the steps to the castle, crownsguard running to meet them, civilians darting this way and that, trying not to get caught in the fray. There were too many, too many Imperial soldiers and their frightening Magitek companions, too many airships hovering above them, half-obscured in the black smoke pouring from the cityscape, already too many of their own fallen in crumpled heaps out in the courtyard.
Maybe he could have trusted the city with his own life, but not with the prince's.
On the south-west side of the castle, Gladio took them down into a passageway hidden behind a heavy tapestry. He gave the prince to Ignis as he moved it aside and ushered them in. A group of servants huddled in the dark corridor inside, and they gasped when the two young men joined them, fearful until they recognized them-- and the little baby Ignis held.
“You've got the prince!” one of them cried. “Thank the gods! They're already inside the castle-- We didn't know if--”
Sure enough, several sets of heavy clanking footsteps passed. Ignis held Noctis closer, silently praying to any god that would listen that the little one would stay quiet. When the danger passed and all that could be heard beyond the shaky, terrified breaths of the eight of them was the muffled echo of the chaos outside, Gladio stepped forward into the pathway and motioned for them to follow.
“C'mon,” he said, standing straight and trying to appear strong for the small group. “It's not safe to stay. Let's go.”
The servants seemed unsure about leaving the relative sanctuary of the hiding spot, but they followed Gladio (and Ignis, who stayed just a step behind him), if only because they believed he'd never willingly put the prince in danger, at least.
The passageway ended at a small door that brought them out into the gardens. The fighting was going on in full force out there too, but they had no choice. They hurried into the yard where soldiers clashed with one another between rows of trampled shrubs, Gladio leading the way, winding through the confusion as best he could. He fell back when an Imperial soldier jumped out at him from beyond a corner, and they grappled with each other for a long tense moment (the servants watching on in horror; Ignis terrified, wondering what he'd do if Gladio went down while he had no way to defend himself or Noctis or the others), until Gladio managed to disarm the soldier of his shortsword and bash him in the face with its pommel. They didn't wait to see if the soldier was dead; he was on the ground and that was enough for them to continue on.
The shortsword served them well, though it wasn't Gladio's preferred weapon in the slightest. He used it to take out two more Imperials that blocked their path as they left the palace grounds and ran down back alleys towards the city's north gate. From one of these downed soldiers he snagged a greatsword, and hurriedly passed the shortsword back to Ignis.
“I know,” he said, before Ignis could even protest. “But, just take it.”
Ignis was fairly certain that nothing in any of their rules would approve of sword-fighting while carrying the infant crown prince and that it was potentially the worst idea imaginable, but he took the weapon and felt better for its solid weight in his hand. It was a little bigger than the daggers he was used to, but it was sharp, and it would kill any Imperial that tried to take the prince from him.
Thanking his lucky stars, Ignis found that he didn't need to use the shortsword at all. After leaving the inner city, the small group had joined the throng of civilians fleeing toward the city's exits. There were far too many people for the soldiers, either friend or foe, to pay much attention to any one of them and, after all, the Nifs likely hadn't come to slaughter common citizens so much as to kill or capture the royal family. They traveled undetected all the way out to where the pristine Insomniac highway met the less cared-for strip of road leading out into the greater expanse of the Leiden desert. The only danger they found themselves facing was the threat of being separated by the scurrying crowd.
“Gladio!” Ignis called, when he and the prince had been pushed back out of sight of their vanguard. Hearing his name, Gladio immediately turned back and came for them, shouldering his way backward through the stream of bodies until he was at Ignis' side.
“Want me to take him?” he asked, huddling closer to shield Noctis from the crowd, sandwiching him between the two of them.
“Just for a moment.” Ignis almost had to force himself to relinquish his hold on the little prince, even though it was only to his trusted shield, but he handed him over just long enough to tuck his sword into his belt before taking him back. Gladio nodded and turned to continue their hectic jog to safety, but before he could get any further away, Ignis used his newly unoccupied hand to grab hold of Gladio's. He didn't explain himself when Gladio glanced back at him curiously; he thought his reasoning was obvious enough and apparently so did Gladio, as he simply nodded and led them on.
It took the better part of two hours to get out of the city. All the while, the chaos continued behind them, and Ignis tried not to dwell on it. There was no use in wondering if the king was alright, if his meager family or the other people he'd known had gotten out unharmed or if they'd already fallen to enemy fire.
Once past the city gates, and out onto the long stretch of Leiden highway, the panicked crowd's energy began to flag. Droves of people who had scurried tirelessly now staggered to the side of the road and dropped to their knees in the dirt, finally allowing themselves to cry, to throw their head in their hands, to catch their breath and their bearings. Ignis wasn't going to be one of them, determined to find somewhere truly safe rather than just out of reach of the danger, until Gladio tugged him off the craggy asphalt path and to a small boulder some yards away. He pushed Ignis down to sit, then swiftly removed the little prince from the crook of his arm, which had grown stiff while he'd been ignoring it.
A noise of protest left his mouth, but Gladio cut him off before he could say anything. “Your arm's gonna fall off if we keep at it like this. Then what good'll you be to him?”
“Fine, you can hold him a while,” Ignis conceded, pushing himself up from the rock. “But we should keep going.”
Gladio shook his head and nudged Ignis back down, then sat beside him. “Go where?” he asked. “It's gonna be dark before too long. Noct's probably already starving.”
Indeed, the baby was whimpering, as he'd been doing for the past half-hour, since he'd become too tired for full-on crying. Ignis couldn't help but deflate, some of the tension going out of his arms and legs in the absence of the need to carry Noctis or himself anywhere immediately. He didn't feel at all relieved, though. The lack of tension was just making room for doubts and fear to set in, so despite how tired he was, he stood again from the rock and began to pace, just out of reach of Gladio.
“We shouldn't stay this close to the gate,” he said. He took eight steps in one direction, turned, and retraced his path, thinking, looking at his mental map of Leide. “There's bound to be a campsite somewhere nearby, some hallowed ground. Others will likely have found it already. We can gather anyone we find along the way and form a hunting party. There will be safety in numbers.”
Gladio stared at him for a moment and appeared to consider something, but he didn't seem to have a problem with the plan or any better suggestions. “Alright, let's go then,” he said.
Ignis stopped his pacing. He nodded, and then held his arms out. “I'll take the prince back.”
“Nah, it's cool. I got 'im,” Gladio said, standing and picking up his sword from where he'd leaned it against the boulder. He slung it over his shoulder and started in the direction which the other citizens were still slowly heading. Ignis followed after him, feeling rather irritable and not sure exactly why, other than that things were obviously not ideal at the moment. With nothing better for his hands to do (and feeling slightly apprehensive about letting Gladio potentially try to wield a massive greatsword in one hand while protecting a baby in the other), he pulled his own smallsword out from his belt and jogged ahead to guard their tiny procession.
There was indeed a campground not too far from the gate, but far enough that they felt they'd have time to escape from the Imperial forces if they showed up. (Whether or not escaping was actually likely, nobody discussed, happy enough to have a little bit of optimism, even if it might be false.) Already at least a hundred people were crowded on or around the rock, and more in little groups dotted along the surrounding landscape. Others still pushed on, hopeful of getting to the nearest town before the sun fell and left them vulnerable.
Ignis spearheaded the formation of a hunting group, and was a little surprised to find so many willing participants. He supposed, though, that they all had hungry families to feed as well, a fact that took priority over their safety, no matter how untrained or ill-equipped they might be.
He was about to head out with the group in search of some meaty beasts to slay, but Gladio held him back. He handed him the prince; Ignis took him automatically, eager without meaning to be. “Why don't you stay here with Noct?” Gladio suggested, setting his free hand lightly on Ignis' shoulder and trailing down his arm as he pulled away.
“I could come with you,” he said. “I'm more than capable.” But while they both knew this to be true, they also knew that keeping Noctis safe was far more important than providing the hunting party with another sword, and that there was no way they were going to either take him on the hunt or leave him at the camp, no matter how many free arms there were that would happily hold him.
So Gladio just shook his head and gave Ignis a look that was probably supposed to be confident and reassuring but still managed to be a little sad. “Be back soon,” he said, and set off with the others.
Noctis was truly exhausted now, and so beyond stressed that he couldn't even manage to whine anymore. He turned his face into Ignis' chest and held onto his button-up shirt with what little strength he had left. Ignis sighed heavily and found them a spot on the crowded rock to sit cross-legged, hunched into himself, and cradled the prince under his chin.
For the most part, the people around him minded their own business, too caught up in processing their own fresh wounds, but several brave souls were attempting to strike up light-hearted conversation with those around them, which slowly stretched the tension until it broke. A young woman who was also carrying a small child came to sit near him, apparently figuring to distract him from his woes by talking about their presumed shared experience.
“How old is he?” she asked, not bothering to indicate that she meant the baby in Ignis' arms because any parent would have heard the question often enough to know exactly what she was asking without a second thought.
Ignis processed the question almost immediately, if not quite as fast as a parent might. “Just shy of a year,” he replied, before he thought better of it. People knew when the prince's birthday was; it was nearly the only thing they knew about him, really. Even his name was not common knowledge except among the Citadel staff who'd most frequently handled him. That was going to have been revealed on his first birthday, as was tradition. It was a date which many citizens looked forward to, and not a date Ignis thought they ought to associate with the child, if they wanted him to remain incognito until they escaped the Empire's reach. So he corrected himself. “Exactly a year, actually.”
The woman had no reason to expect that Ignis was lying to her, and every reason to be sympathetic. “Aww, poor thing,” she cooed, reaching forward to pat Noctis' head. Ignis had to restrain himself from pulling away, aware that that wasn't a normal reaction.
They commiserated a while over the mess they found themselves in and talked about their children, though luckily the woman didn't ask many questions after the first one. Ignis was happy to let her make assumptions, even if those assumptions placed him in the role of father. It was safer that way anyway, and removed from him the need to explain why he was carrying around a little child that didn't belong to him.
Later than Ignis would have liked, but earlier than he expected, Gladio and his group returned about an hour after they'd left, toting behind them several spiracorns. Ignis rushed to meet him, edging his way down the rock and doing his best not to step on anybody or jostle the prince too badly. He didn't think to feel embarrassed until he was nearly level with Gladio, and he realized that he was one of only a few who had run to meet the returning hunters (the others having done so mostly to offer help), but having the prince's shield near again made Ignis too relieved to be bothered much.
Gladio dropped the leg of the beast he'd been hauling and plucked Noctis out of Ignis' arms. “Hope you like horse,” he said. “I wanted to go after a dualhorn, but it woulda been a lot harder to drag back.”
Ignis glanced down at the beast. He wasn't sure how spiracorn meat cooked, but he'd guess it was edible; he wasn't really concerned about the quality of dinner when there were so many other things going on. “This will be fine,” he said, and went back to looking over Gladio, checking that the monsters hadn't done any real harm to him. His eyes flitted down from his head to his toes, and only got caught on a few rips in his shirt before he remembered that those had come from his tussles with the Imperial soldiers earlier and had already been checked and signed off.
As if he could read the worry in Ignis' eyes as clear as printed text, Gladio rolled his shoulders and stretched, a sign that he was feeling fine. “Maybe I'll grab a dualhorn next time. Those horses didn't stand a chance against me.”
Ignis was about to remark that he'd rather Gladio not fight monsters just for the challenge of it, but one of the other hunters came up behind him and nudged Gladio in a companionable sort of way. “It's true,” he told Ignis, grinning. “This guy handled more than half the fight on his own.”
This was no surprise, given Gladio's extensive training. What surprised Ignis was the way the other hunter looked at him-- at the three of them: he and Gladio and the prince-- and smiled at Ignis as if to say, 'you should be proud of him'. He was proud of Gladio, of course, much as he was proud of himself for his exemplary service to the crown, but why any random citizen who didn't know who they were should think so eluded him.
After the beasts had all been hauled in and cleaned and set to cook over several large fires, Ignis pulled Gladio aside.
“Did you tell the hunters that you were crownsguard?” he asked, still puzzling over the interaction from earlier.
“No. Why? Someone ask you about it?”
Ignis shook his head, not sure how to explain why he thought some of the others knew. It was just the way a few people had looked at them, not any sort of quantifiable data. “No, I just think we ought to be careful with that information. For Nocti-- for Noct's sake.”
“I was thinkin' the same thing,” Gladio said, and of course he was. Ignis knew that Gladio was just as aware of their situation as he was; he held the prince just as close, had a protective gleam in his eye that transcended that of just a bodyguard. They were both willing to do whatever it took to protect Noctis, and they both understood that that meant keeping secrets.
They didn't devise a detailed plan right then (both still hoping the danger would be over soon enough that they wouldn't need one), but Gladio's agreeing to be careful with the information they divulged to the others was enough to satisfy Ignis, at least for the time being. They returned to the center of the camp to help ready dinner, passing Noctis back and forth between them over the course of the evening, to whichever of them wasn't currently busy assisting others.
It wasn't that anybody had named them leaders, and they certainly hadn't volunteered for the position, but as the night progressed both Ignis and Gladio found themselves helping the citizens whenever possible. Sometimes that meant carving slabs of meat for children and elderly folks, and sometimes it was helping people find the friends they'd lost in the crowd, and sometimes it meant reminding people not to wander out in the darkness because, unlike most of the city's inhabitants, Gladio had actually spent time out in the desert, and he knew what kinds of nasty creatures came out when the sun went down. But mostly it was being something for people to look to when the quiet of night began to settle in and they remembered how bad things were.
Neither of them were dressed in uniform, and they hadn't said a word about working for the crown, but still the others seemed to see them as a sort of authority. Perhaps it was because Gladio cut such a figure, matching or surpassing the average adult in height and width, even though he was only sixteen. Maybe it was the way he'd lead the hunters, how he slung his sword over his shoulder like it weighed nothing at all and grinned like there wasn't a problem in the world. People wanted to follow someone with that sort of infectious confidence, especially at a time like this.
And probably the others assumed they were adults, because it was unlikely they'd have listened much to them if they knew that Ignis and Gladio were little more than children, no matter how well-prepared. Gladio had looked full-grown for over a year now, and although Ignis was maybe not quite so grown, he always had been tall for his age-- and remarkably well put-together. The two of them together certainly didn't look like a pair of average teenagers.
But their appearances aside, it was Noctis who likely made the others perceive them as mature-- because why would two teenagers be sharing the care of a small child, a child who they both looked upon as if he meant the world to them?
Honestly, there were plenty of reasons why that could happen; as many as you could imagine, and Ignis could imagine quite a few. But he knew that none of those were what the people surrounding him defaulted to, when they saw the care with which the two young men treated the child, the way they cradled him as if their lives depended on it, and how when night had fully fallen and their slapdash dinner was over and everyone was huddled on and around the glowing rune-covered plateau, the two of them sat so close they could hardly get closer, leaning their heads and shoulders together and twining their arms around the child to shield him from the chilly desert air. When dawn began to break and Ignis woke from his shallow sleep, slumped over on to Gladio's chest, head tucked beneath his chin with Noctis tucked under his own, each with their arms wrapped around the next like a living nesting doll, he knew what their fellow refugees would think, and he knew the best plan to keep Noctis safe was to play into it.
It wasn't really necessary to mention this to Gladio. The way Ignis didn't jerk away or bother to look ashamed at falling asleep on him was enough to express to the shield what he was planning. Gladio, for his part, went right along with it; he casually hugged Ignis (and Noctis) to him as he stretched his back and his spare arm, a gesture that would have looked natural to any onlookers.
With the sunlight returned and bathing the dusty desert in its optimistic glow, the refugees roused from their uneasy sleep and began their journey anew. Without the threat of daemons, the others didn't seem to look to Gladio and Ignis for guidance as much, leaving them with some privacy as they joined the procession. They spent the majority of the day walking quietly along the road, passing the prince between them at intervals.
It was well past midday when they reached the next point of interest. The truck-stop was already overflowing with people, many of whom had apparently pressed on the previous day and had all night and all morning to set up camp. Tents littered the parking lot and much of the road in front of the business, leaving only enough space for cars to squeeze through when they returned from down the road to pick up more travelers. In between the tents, people sat and laid on sleeping bags or blankets or jackets laid out to cover the hot concrete. But despite the clutter, the whole scene was fairly well organized, and many people were lined up to get into the shop or the diner.
A girl maybe a little younger than Ignis was standing in the middle of the two lines, calling out orders to people and giving directions. As busy as she seemed, she was obviously one of the people in charge, so they approached her in hopes of gaining some insight as to the state of things there.
“Hey, y’all,” she said, giving them a smile that was a bit harried but comforting. (It was the ‘diner at rush-hour’ smile, though they didn’t think of it as such.) “We’re clean outta tents, but there’s still some space in the grass behind the diner, if you just need a place to hunker down for a while.”
Ignis and Gladio glanced at each other; they didn’t have to really discuss it (a running theme, this past day, apparently), both knowing full well that they needed to do what they could not only to take care of Noctis, but to assist the citizenry, if possible. “Actually, miss,” Ignis began, shifting Noctis to his other hip. “Is there anything we can do to help?”
She looked sweetly confused for a moment before understanding dawned on her face. “Crownsguard?” She looked at the weapons tied to their belts, the self-assured way they must have carried themselves, then she glanced back and forth between the two of them and Noctis. “And that's--...?” Her eyes went wide.
“Our son,” Ignis told her, pulling him a little closer to hide the infant away from her eyes.
“Right,” the girl said, her eyebrows drawing down in an amount of understanding neither of the young men had anticipated. “But ya are Crownsguard?” They nodded and she grinned. “My paw-paw, y’see, he used to be friends with Regis!”
That was apparently enough of an in for them, and the girl was more than happy to take them up on their offer of assistance, after introducing herself as Cindy. There was much to be done, and too little of it could be handled by the truck-stop’s small staff.
“First things first, if one of ya can help haul stock up outta the store room, we might be able to take care of these refugees a little better.”
Ignis and Gladio shared another glance and Gladio said, “I’ll go. Point the way, miss.”
The rest station was crowded far beyond capacity but it wasn’t so big of a place that they risked being unable to find each other, so Ignis nodded Gladio on with the unspoken agreement that they would meet again before too long.
Once Gladio was on the way, Cindy turned to Ignis and looked down at Noct. “I guess you’ve got your hands full already, huh?” She tilted her head curiously at the baby, as if there were a lot of questions she was only vaguely invested in finding the answers to.
“Noct is my highest priority,” Ignis answered, nodding. “But I’m sure there’s still something I can do?”
Cindy grinned, cheerful either because of her nature or because she was pleasantly surprised by someone insisting on helping. “Reckon there is! I gotta check on things in the diner, but for now do ya think you could get people to move off the road? There’s not as much traffic today as last night but I’d still hate for anyone to get run over.”
“Consider it done, Miss Cindy,” Ignis said, and Cindy’s bright face lit up even more.
It was a simple task, but as with many simple things, not so easily done. He was lucky that he still seemed to be in possession of that commanding aura he’d identified in both himself and Gladio the night before; people paid attention when he asked them to do things. But the overall focus of the refugees was unfortunately low still, as the stress and worry built, and there were still so many people crowded in and around the rest station. Easily hundreds of wide-eyed, tired city-dwellers, some experiencing the dusty Leiden countryside for the first time and none of them especially pleased to be doing so. It was a chore to get them all to move somewhere safe. Probably only the unforgiving sun kept people from resettling on the baked asphalt as soon as the tents moved.
Noctis became fussy as they worked, possibly from hunger but most likely from the heat. He likely hadn’t had occasion to ever really sweat before, and Ignis doubted he was enjoying the new experience. Ignis didn’t like it much himself, though he pressed on in the name of duty until the road was clear. When he was finished, he made his way through the throng to the interior of the diner, hoping he could find Cindy waiting with a task perhaps less likely to give the young prince sun-stroke.
“Miss Cindy?” he called, just loud enough that he might be heard over the combined murmurings of more people than could really safely fit inside the building. He found a clear square-foot of tile near the counter, hoping that he might find her behind it, back where only employees were supposed to tread. (So far, most of the people had respected the sign posted on the wall that requested patrons keep out.)
“She’s over on the other side of the lot, helpin’ Cid,” said a cheerful-looking man who was arranging plates full of food on the counter, and stacking up the used ones as they came back empty. “You must be the crownsguard she mentioned? If ya don’t mind, I could use some help here until she gets back? Maybe just collect the dirty dishes for me?”
“Certainly,” Ignis said, though as he readjusted Noctis in his arms and glanced around at the crowd, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. Balance them in one hand and risk shattering the whole stack?
There was very little chance that he would deny the man his request though, so he did just that, collecting the plates and then the bowls in stacks of four, which was the most he felt he could trust himself not to mishandle. Luckily, someone took pity on him before he had to strain his wrist too much.
“Dear!” a middle-aged woman called as he picked up dishes from a nearby booth. He glanced over at her, unsure how he even knew it was him she was calling to. “That looks terribly dangerous! I can hold on to the little one for you while you do that.”
Ignis hesitated a moment. He was not planning to give Noctis up to a stranger (even though it was about time for his next outburst), but the idea was still tempting, at least to his tired arm. His shoulder especially ached from holding Noctis at such a stiff angle for so many hours.
“No, thank you,” he told her, in lieu of some sharper protestation or declaration about not letting strangers handle his precious charge. “I really couldn’t.”
The woman smiled knowingly. “I understand,” she said. Ignis didn’t respond that she couldn’t possibly. “But your arm must be on fire. It wouldn’t do to hurt yourself. I have an idea.”
Generally speaking, Ignis didn’t feel that he needed to rely on anybody else’s ideas. Usually, his own were sufficient. But this woman clearly had more experience than him in this particular case. (He was loathe to admit it, but probably most of the women in this room had more experience than him, when it came to child-rearing.) Despite his pride, he nodded and came to stand in front of her for whatever her idea was. He knew that to keep Noctis truly safe, he was going to have to learn from whoever was willing to teach him.
The woman plucked lightly at the collar of his shirt, and he stiffened, but she only spent a moment checking underneath. “We can use your overshirt as a sling,” she said, prompting him to take the garment off and hand it to her.
He froze for a second, knowing he couldn’t do this while Noctis was still cradled in one arm, but the woman’s kind yet no-nonsense expression finally broke something in Ignis, and he carefully but quickly handed the baby over into her arms. Then, as fast as humanly possible, he divested himself of the long-sleeved button-down and traded it for Noctis. The woman stood from the booth and made quick work of circling Ignis with the fabric and tying it quite expertly into a sling, into which she nestled the baby.
“I’d be more comfortable if he was at my front instead,” he said, grimacing when he realized she’d situated Noctis tight against his back. It was nerve-wracking to think that he could fall out of the sling, or that someone could steal him while Ignis literally had his back turned.
“The back’s better,” the woman explained, gesturing at the way the arms of the shirt tied around Ignis’ chest. “This way you control the ties. You wouldn’t be able to undo it as easily if it were around the back. Anyway, you’re less likely to drop plates on him like this.”
He could see her point, as much as he didn’t want to. Abashed, he nodded and thanked her very much, lingering only another moment before he got back to helping.
It ended up being a better solution than he could have anticipated. His arms burned from the sudden lack of strain, but it was a relief to have full use of both of them again. He could hold a veritable mountain of plates this way, stacking them like he had once stacked library books.
The man at the counter looked beyond relieved at the sight of so many gathered plates, even though it meant more immediate dishes to do. “That’s a real help,” he said. “Thanks so much.”
“What else can I do for you?” Ignis asked. Truthfully, he was a little bit tired, but he’d never shied away from whatever work his job required of him and he wouldn’t start now. If it didn’t impede his ability to care for Noctis, there was no reason not to keep helping.
The man looked at him like he was offering a miracle. “You don’t happen to know how to cook, do you?”
“I can’t say that I do,” Ignis replied, frowning at his own inability. It wasn’t something he’d ever needed to know, as the king already had more skilled personal chefs than he knew what to do with. At least, he used to. Now, the crown prince had only him. “But I am a quick study.”
His temporary boss’s face broke into a sunny grin. “I can work with that!”
And that was how Ignis found himself in the relatively quiet kitchen, chopping mountains of ingredients, watching from the corner of his eye to see how the cook combined things and at what proportions and temperatures. The man did two batches of fried rice before Ignis nodded to himself and stepped over to hold his hand out for the spatula.
“I believe I can take it from here.”
It looked for a minute as if the man was going to refuse on the basis that Ignis had ‘already done enough’ or something like that, but the front of the diner was still in chaos and he needed to go save his other assistant. He nodded and tossed a quick but sincere thanks over his shoulder as he dashed out the door and left Ignis to practice this new skill.
Never in a million years did he expect he would find feeding panicked refugees fun, but the task was genuinely enjoyable. It helped that he seemed naturally gifted at it (as with many other things. He was glad this was not an outlier; that would have been embarrassing), quick enough that he could satisfy the constant calls for more from the front, and still find a spare moment now-and-again to deal with Noctis.
The child was sleepy for most of the time that Ignis was cooking, which was fine with Ignis because it meant Noctis had stopped squirming. He wasn’t a squirmy child by nature, but he wasn’t used to being confined to one small space for so long, even if that space was constantly moving. Luckily the lower light of the kitchen had lulled him into a doze. Even so, he woke easily when it was time for lunch, going after the fried rice with gusto. More than the lack of complaints from the front end of the diner (so far his only indication that his cooking wasn’t horrible), Noct’s enthusiasm filled Ignis with a reasonable amount of pride.
Most of the afternoon was spent this way, cooking and cleaning, and taking short breaks when Takka, the diner operator, insisted that even he couldn’t handle more than a ten hour shift without a break, if he wanted to be anything more than completely useless the next day. Since Ignis still had no idea what tomorrow would hold, he admitted it was best to be as prepared as possible, which in this case meant resting when the sun began its descent into the dusty horizon.
With two large bowls of fried rice in hand, he shouldered his way out the back of the kitchen and into the evening. He really hoped to find Gladio, now that things were settling down. With any luck, the friendly brute hadn’t gotten wrangled into doing anything too dangerous, or anything that would keep him away from his prince for too long. Yes, Noctis had him, but Ignis knew from the past day (the past year, really) that he couldn’t do this alone. That it wouldn’t be right for Noctis, to have only the one protector.
Luck was on his side; Gladio seemed to have thought similarly, and was already making his way towards the diner-half of the rest-stop from over near the garage. He hurried, but was careful not to trip on any of the campers’ sprawled legs or tent edges.
“Hey,” he said, once only a few family groups were between them and he didn’t have to shout over their chatter. “How’s the p-- kid?”
“Noct is surprisingly well,” Ignis said as the distance between them dwindled down to almost nothing. He turned slightly so that Gladio could see the sleepy princeling dozing on his back. “I’ve had a bit of help from the locals, as you can see.”
“You? Taking help?” Gladio joked, though it was clear that he wasn’t truly surprised. Nobody who knew Ignis (or either of them, for that matter) would ever doubt that they would go to any lengths for their prince, even if that meant eschewing their normal mannerisms and pride. Anyway, Ignis was never so proud as to pass up an opportunity to learn or increase his efficiency, even if it was embarrassing to admit that there was anything he didn’t already know. How else could he have become so adept?
Handing Gladio a bowl, he said, “Stranger things have happened. Though, with any luck, they’ll soon stop happening.”
Now that dinner was in hand, Gladio had a new goal to drive them towards. He glanced around for a place that they could sit, and lead the way to an unoccupied few feet of curb they could perch on. “I wouldn’t count on it,” he said, in regards to those stranger things.
“Why?” Ignis asked. “Have you heard bad news?”
Shaking his head as he chewed and roughly swallowed a mouthful of rice, Gladio said, “No news yet. It’s all still chaos. It’s been twenty-four hours now, and no one knows what’s happened to the king.” He glanced at Ignis’ back, where Noctis was still dozing in his little cocoon until such a time as either of his keepers had a free arm to hold him. “Or the prince. It’s just worried rumors.”
“I would be worried too,” Ignis admitted, his heart stirring his stomach as the concerns he’d pushed down came back up out of their temporary time-out. “I am worried. You would think we’d have seen a few more Crownsguard by now.”
“Well, maybe they’re incognito,” Gladio suggested. It obviously wasn’t an absurd idea. Crownsguard didn’t wear their recognizable military uniforms all the time, and even if they’d wanted to be easily recognizable, there wouldn’t have been time to get changed during the attack. But there was definitely some merit in appearing anonymous; if they had been more obviously Crowsguard, some more clever eyes might not have passed by Noctis so easily. And regardless of what happened to the king and the rest of the royal court, protecting the prince was the number one priority of any of the crown’s servants.
They ate in silence for a few minutes before Ignis said, “I wonder if we ought to change. Clothing, of course, when we can. But I mean… Do you suppose anyone would recognize us?”
“I dunno.” Gladio looked over Ignis, from head to toe. “We weren’t exactly high-ranking officials.”
“But more than mere servants,” Ignis said, not to denigrate the many maids and housefolk that had kept the castle running. “We were in a line of succession not unlike Noct. Suppose the Empire is… looking. Not for Noct, but for us.”
Although they would both have liked to assume that they weren’t yet important enough to be on any Empire hit-lists, neither of them was naive enough to think their sworn enemy wouldn’t be so thorough. “...Yeah. I guess… we’ll just have to be careful,” Gladio said after a long moment of consideration. There wasn’t much else they could do.
There wasn’t much else they could do to protect themselves from the Empire, no, but there was still much to do to help their citizens. It was heartening to see that most of the people who’d settled at the Hammerhead were doing well enough, for the circumstances, and for that they absolutely had to hand it to Cid, who they’d yet to meet. As soon as their bowls were empty (and they’d taken them back to the diner, along with a few stacks collected from other refugees), they went out in search of the truck-stop’s proprietor, to see if he could enlighten them further on the situation. Through the process of elimination, they found him in the upstairs section of the garage, one of the very few places that had remained private, by virtue of it being behind a locked door. It was Cid and Cindy’s living quarters, and as giving as they were of their space and supplies, they’d wisely decided to keep something back for themselves.
Cindy was still downstairs in the garage proper, setting people up with whatever could possibly be used as bedding, and looking so much less harrowed than Ignis would have expected of anyone without Crownsguard training. “There ya are!” she called, carefully stepping over and around rough sleepers. “I wanted to find ya before you collapsed for the night. Paw-paw wants--” She stopped herself, and led them over to a somewhat more private space, where the staircase up to their rooms began. Lowering her voice, she said, “Paw-paw wants you to stay with us for the night.”
Ignis was taken aback, and from the look on his face, Gladio hadn’t exactly expected this outcome either. They’d both expected to be hunkering down with the masses for the foreseeable future, sleeping wherever there was space. But there was some logic to having private (or at least more private) quarters. It would certainly afford the prince a measure more safety, and his guardians a little better rest.
“He knows?” Gladio asked.
Cindy nodded. “I told ‘im earlier and he wanted to find y'all right away, but the two of you were busy as bees. I couldn’t lay an eye on you.”
“Apologies, miss,” Ignis said, although none of them actually regretted that they’d been helping out all day. It was what was needed.
“Ain’t nothin’ to worry about,” Cindy said, waving off any concern. With a nod over her shoulder, she led them up the stairs, to a door she unlocked with a key from her belt. “The little one looks like he’s survived just fine.”
“A bit in need of a bath,” Ignis admitted, “but none the worse for wear, I don’t think.”
Up in the proprietor’s private rooms, Cid was scribbling tiredly at some paperwork at a little desk tucked into the corner. He didn’t look up when the four of them filtered into the living room, intent on finishing his task first. Ignis could see in that small gesture how this man might have been trusted by Regis back in the day. It was only a few long moments, and only as awkward as anything else had been those past few days, standing and waiting, before Cid turned around in his spinning chair and gave the lot of them a good hard look.
“So the pair of ya finally showed yer faces. I was startin’ to think you were just a hopeful rumor.”
“There’s word going around about us?” Ignis asked, cautious but not terribly surprised. He just hoped the word that was circulating was less well-defined than ‘prince’.
Cid cocked a smile. “Even plain folk can tell a Crownsguard when they see one, ‘specially the way you’ve been takin’ charge. Or so I hear. And I don’t need to tell you that Crowns guard are about the closest thing to crown these people have got right now. Figure that’s why you’re the word about town right now.”
“Maybe so,” Ignis allowed. “Is that the reason why you’ve called upon us?”
A silent sort of exchange was happening, between the words the two men were speaking, but Ignis would not ( could not) fully trust Cid until the whole truth was out into the open air, and it was not Ignis who would be putting it there. Cid gave him another long, considering look, and he seemed to understand that.
“That’s the half of it,” he said. Then he nodded at Noct. “The little prince. Takes after his pa somethin’ fierce. Just lucky, I guess, that most nobody else remembers what Regis looked like as a kid.”
He approached them from across the small space and scooped Noctis out of Ignis' arms, which would have caused Ignis to stiffen if he hadn't been so relieved that there was finally someone who, in a way, ranked higher than them and could be trusted to take over for a moment. If nothing else, Cid certainly had the seniority. Ignis may not have known him but he knew of him, knew that the man had been Crownsguard for a time, and had retired for personal reasons, not for any falling-out between him and Regis. That implied that he was still in the crown's good graces, and an old friend of the crown was invaluable at a time like this.
Cid gently bounced Noctis in his arms, a gesture that painted a picture of long years of experience. It wasn't clear if Cindy's "paw-paw" was her father or her grandfather, but he had obviously bounced a baby or two in his time, and just as clearly was pleased to do it again. He gazed down at Noctis fondly, but with a curious sadness that felt all too familiar. "And how did you end up with the little guy?" he asked Ignis, glancing as well at Gladio to include him in the conversation.
"He happened to be in our possession at the time of the attack," Ignis said.
"We were babysitting," Gladio clarified.
"Huh." Cid nodded thoughtfully. "That might'a just been a stroke of luck. If he'd been with his dad, he might notta gotten out so easy."
Both of the young men gritted their teeth. "Does that mean–?" Gladio began, but Cid just shook his head.
"I ain't heard about Regis yet, but it doesn't take a military genius to figure out what invaders are usually after. Or who. Ain't that part of the reason they don't introduce the prince 'til he's a year? For situations exactly like this. In fact, the Empire woulda been wise to wait a few weeks. Who knows what they were thinkin'."
"Could they have been unaware of Lucian traditions?" Ignis mused, knowing that ultimately their enemies' knowledge or intentions wouldn't change the situation they were in. Not immediately, at least, and he still held out hope that by the time it was relevant there would be a clearer chain of command to handle it.
“I’m sure someone knew,” Cid said, “but thank the gods for bad bureaucracy. If we’re lucky, whoever’s running the show over there isn’t clever enough to come looking for the two of you, because it looks like the little prince might be your responsibility for a while yet.”
They all gazed at the little child, clinging sleepily to Cid’s shoulder. Gladio nodded, his expression resolute, as if Cid had just given them a task they hadn’t already taken upon themselves. “We’ll do what we can.”
Ignis couldn’t help but grimace, thinking wildly ahead on into an unsure future. “Though there must be someone to inherit him, ultimately, should the worst come to pass?”
“Should the worst come to pass?” Cid echoed. “It might’ve already. There ain’t exactly a robust royal family, and any cousins who survive this mess will be under watch for the rest of their lives, or however long the empire rules. Who else would he go to? Military generals? Secretaries of state? Ain’t a single person associated with the government gonna have a normal enough life to raise the prince outta sight of the empire. And if they get him? Well, you already know that can’t happen, or you wouldn’t be here.” He shook his head, looking much more tired now. “And you are here. Two baby crownsguard; you can’t be much older’n Cindy?”
Although he hadn’t thought of himself as a child for years, Ignis knew better than to be offended by the old man calling them babies. Relatively, metaphorically, it was true enough. “Fifteen, sir,” he told Cid, glancing at Gladio to see that the more muscular boy didn’t look affronted by the almost comical commentary either.
“And already holding the weight of the world on your shoulders.” Cid shook his head.
To Ignis, it didn’t feel nearly that big. All-encompassing, yes. Larger than life. Certainly the most important thing he would ever do. But Noctis was so small, and when he held him in his arms, everything narrowed down to that embrace. It was nothing like a whole world. It was much warmer and closer to home.
“He’s worth it,” Gladio said, when Ignis didn’t. “Anyway, we would’ve been his personal guard eventually. My family’s been the Shield for generations.”
“Amicitia, huh?” Cid said, nodding to Gladio. “So you’re Clarus’ boy.” He gave him a sad smile, not bothering to mention that his father had probably been at King Regis’ side at the time of the attack. They all knew it, and they all knew that whatever happened to Regis would probably have happened to Clarus first. Such was the lot of the Shield. He did have a piece of advice for the young man, though, if not any condolences. “That’s a well-known family you’re from, and that name won’t do you any favors with the Empire. I suggest you find a different one for the time being.”
More than anything, the idea of leaving his name behind seemed to pain Gladio, but he nodded, taking the advice to heart even as it chipped at him. “I’ll do that,” he said grimly.
“Do you have any more advice for us, sir?” Ignis asked, wishing he had a set of orders to follow. “Like, perhaps, where we ought to head now?”
“I don't advise you head anywhere just yet,” Cid replied. He turned and shuffled some of his paperwork into a more even stack with the arm not holding Noctis, then moved it into a desk drawer. “Best to just keep your head down for now. Don't make any big plans before we know what's what.”
“I…” Ignis wanted to argue that they couldn't linger so close to the city, that they needed to get away from the Empire and fast. But the Empire had airships and radios; the other side of the world wasn't necessarily safer than their own backyard. “Of course. That's sensible.”
“Darn right it is,” Cid said. “If nothing else, the three of you need some rest before you go running off. And the little one here could use a bath.” He gently peeled Noctis off his shoulder and held him out to the boys. Ignis was about to reach for him, but Gladio swooped in first.
He laughed and rubbed a hand over Noctis’ head, releasing a cloud of dust from it and slightly rousing the boy. “That's for sure,” he said. “Can you believe his hair is supposed to be black?”
“Could be a good disguise,” Cindy joked, but she clearly agreed with ‘paw-paw’ that he needed a rinse, if not a soak. “I'll go run the water for him.”
“You’re welcome to stay as long as ya need,” Cid told them while they waited on the bath water to warm. “But ya are stayin’ the night, and that’s an order.”
Ignis hadn’t been planning on fighting Cid about the offer, at least not more than a token protest, but this ‘order’ stopped even that, and with the way Ignis’ shoulders relaxed he thought Cid had probably known that an ‘order’ from ‘higher up’ was what he needed right now, even with the quotations.
The bath was helpful too, though he doubted Cid’s insistence on that was for the prince’s caretakers’ sake. It was nice to see Noct having fun, splashing about and making an approved mess. Ignis took point on the procedure, even though Gladio offered his expertise, being the only one of the two of them who had ever bathed a child before.
“Then, of the two of us, I am the one who needs the practice,” Ignis said, trying to figure out how to wash Noct’s grimy hair without getting soap in his eyes.
“Well soak it in,” Gladio replied, crossing his arms and sitting back on the toilet seat. “This’ll probably be his last bath for a while, unless we set up for good.”
Ignis wrinkled his nose at the idea. “I don’t relish the idea of not bathing for so long. Still, I don’t think that’s enough reason to stay here, as close as it is to the capital.”
He could see Gladio nod out of the corner of his eye. Where and when exactly they would go was still something they needed to decide, and it would be a tough decision to make, which was why they weren’t doing it that night. “Your body gets used to it after a while,” he said, and it took Ignis half a moment to realize he meant ‘not bathing’, something he probably knew because of his interest in camping. (He never showed any signs of being unclean while they were in the city, and with all the training he did, there was no way Ignis wouldn’t have noticed.)
“I would like to avoid that,” Ignis muttered, though he knew he might not really have a say in it.
While they were wrapping Noctis up in the fluffy towel Cindy provided, Gladio said, “Hey, why don’t you take one now?”
“That’s alright,” Ignis said, shaking his head. “It’s more important that Noct’s taken care of.”
“Yeah, and I can do that,” Gladio told him with a shrug and a hard look. “Go on. Remember, this could be the last time.”
Ignis ‘hmph’ed, though it wasn’t a protest. “Not the last time ever, I hope.”
Although he didn’t want to admit it, he was glad that Gladio had pushed. The bath helped immensely, both physically and emotionally. There was something calming about being clean and well put together, after a long two days of stress and strife, dust notwithstanding.
By the time he’d gotten out of the bath, dried, and redressed in his less than fresh clothes, Gladio had already gotten Noct read for bed, and was giving him a bottle of milk that Cindy had scrounged up from somewhere. Noct grabbed the bottle greedily and laid back in the pile of Cindy’s stuffed animals. It was quite cute, but it raised a question.
“Where will Miss Cindy be sleeping?” Ignis asked Gladio, who was arranging stuffed animals around Noct like the walls of a plush little fort.
“Somewhere else, I guess,” Gladio replied. He glanced over at Ignis with a look like he knew Ignis was going to be fussy about it. “I already asked if she was sure, and she said she was. No need to second guess her.” He looked at Ignis for a moment, his head tilted just slightly, a faint soft smile on his lips. “Y’know, she’s happy to help him. Cid too. I bet if more people knew who he was, we’d have more helping hands than we know what to do with.”
Ignis frowned. “We can’t tell anyone, Gladio. No matter how much help it might provide.”
“I know.” Gladio didn’t cross his arms, but he put a hand on his hip, like he thought Ignis should have known that he knew. And he did, of course. It was just… there could really be no overstating these things. Gladio continued, “I know we can’t tell people, and that means we probably won’t have much help in the future. So I’m happy to take what help we can get for now. I have a feeling it’s gonna be mostly up to us for a while after this.”
Ignis almost felt guilty for seemingly doubting that Gladio understood the gravity of the situation, when it seemed obvious now that he had put a lot of thought into it. He could practically see how far into the future Gladio was envisioning, and he was impressed with what he imagined was Gladio’s foresight, but it also left him a little apprehensive, because he could see that it was probably true. The future, while perhaps not bleak, was going to be quite a lot different than what they’d been trained to expect.
While Ignis hesitated, Gladio laid down on the floor by the bed, making himself comfortable for the night. Another protest caught in Ignis’ throat, but he was starting to know better than to voice them. Instead he switched off the light and laid down on the edge of the bed, between Noctis and the floor. With the light off, the last of Noct’s energy gave way to a big sleepy yawn, and he snuggled into a stuffed bear and fell asleep, one little foot resting on Ignis’ arm for reassurance. There was silence, as Ignis tried not to move, for fear of waking the child up, but after a few minutes he finally allowed himself to give a weary sigh. He dropped his arm down off the edge of the bed, letting his hand fall on Gladio’s shoulder.
“Thank you for your help,” he whispered. “I don’t know if I could do this without you.”
Gladio patted Ignis’ hand in lieu of offering his usual self-assured smile. “The king needs his shield as much as his advisor. I belong by his side, no matter where he goes.”
There was nothing Ignis could think to respond; he wasn’t sure it needed a response. But he let his hand linger there for just a minute before drawing it back up to himself. Sleep didn’t come as easily as it should have, so he laid there and listened to Noct and Gladio breathe, and hoped silently that Gladio continued to feel that way. He curled onto his side and laid an arm over Noctis. There was no doubt that he would never abandon the little prince, not until his dying day.
If Gladio should ever leave their side, that day could come too soon.
Chapter Text
Blessedly, Noct slept through the entire night. Ignis wasn’t sure if this was normal for him or not, because his nursemaids had only ever called on him in the daytime, and he’d never thought to inquire about Noct’s schedule otherwise. He hadn’t ever expected it to be relevant. But now, in the still and dark morning inside the safety of Cindy’s plush bedroom, he spared a moment to worry. It wasn’t something he was allowing himself to do much these past few days; Noct’s mental state could only be fine if his physical state was taken care of.
Unfortunately, there was no real way of gauging how Noct was feeling. He wasn’t crying. That was all Ignis really had to go on, and for now it was going to have to be enough. He just hoped Noctis wasn’t traumatized by the recent events, and that sleeping for so long in one stretch was normal for babies his age– or for him, at least.
Gladio was still dead asleep, which Ignis felt was only fair, after having been so vigilant for days. As silently as possible, he got out of bed and crept around Gladio’s splayed arms and legs and out into the kitchen, hoping that the soft click of the door shutting behind him would wake neither of the sleeping boys.
His intention was to make breakfast, for Noctis, at least. He didn’t want to take for himself or Gladio without asking, feeling that Cid had done enough for them already, but he felt no hesitation in taking whatever Noct needed, especially after Gladio was so insistent the night before about the loyal citizens wanting to help their prince. Even if they hadn’t, Ignis would have requisitioned whatever necessary to take care of him.
Luckily, it wasn’t necessary at all; as he turned into the kitchen, he found Cindy already busy at work, humming as she cooked something on the stove-top. “Good morning,” Ignis said quietly, feeling a bit awkward to have walked in so blatantly ready to steal from them, even though Cindy couldn’t possibly have known, and wouldn’t likely have cared.
“Mornin’!” Cindy returned, with an enthusiasm that pegged her as a morning person. “Sleep alright?”
“Quite alright, thanks to you,” Ignis replied. “And I hope you slept well as well?”
“It ain’t no problem,” she said, tossing a smile over her shoulder. “I slept just fine, and even better knowin’ the little one had a nice place to rest. You like eggs?”
Ignis was a little taken aback by the change of topic, especially because what he liked had nothing to do with taking care of Noctis, but upon peeking over her shoulder he realized that eggs were what she was cooking– a big pan of scrambled eggs.
“I do, thank you,” he told her, and stood back to let her finish the job he’d meant to do.
It wasn’t that cooking eggs was particularly difficult; even he knew how to do it. But that was not what impressed him so much about Cindy. She was just so composed in the face of this sudden difficulty; she would have made an excellent Crownsguard. He couldn’t help imagining that if Cid had kept on in service that perhaps Cindy would have been raised alongside Gladio and him, trained from a young age to take care of Noctis. He realized that if that had been the case, she might have taken Ignis’ place entirely, though he didn’t allow himself to think that Noct would be better for it, just because Cindy was a girl. True, the boy deserved some nurturing, and perhaps a motherly touch; Ignis had pitied the poor young prince that he had no mother and no true mother figure, the nursemaids on too steady a rotation to form a very strong bond with him. But he’d been alright so far, and Ignis was determined that he would now provide whatever Noctis needed, even if it could never exactly be the same. Even if it wasn’t exactly what he deserved. It should have to be enough.
As Cindy finished the eggs, unaware of Ignis’ thoughts, he busied himself warming some milk for Noct. Gladio was just stirring as he snuck back into the room to grab the bottle Noctis had fallen asleep with, but Ignis did his best not to fully wake him. By the time he’d washed out the bottle, Cindy had finished the eggs, and presented them to him with a sunny smile.
“Y’all three rest as long as ya need, y’hear? I’ll just be out here if ya need anythin’, ‘til I head back downstairs to see what kinda trouble’s popped up over the night.”
Ignis thanked her profusely, and as before she just waved him off and went on with her business.
Gladio was up and yawning by the time he returned, stretching his arms so high above his head that half his stomach showed; Ignis turned away from the display. He handed him the bowl of eggs when he was finished with the obscenely long stretch, and sidled over to the window to pull the curtains back just enough to see clearly but not wake Noct with the flood of light.
“Courtesy of Miss Cindy,” he said.
“Nice,” Gladio replied, and was halfway to chowing down before he paused and looked over at Ignis. “You have some?”
“You eat first.” Ignis was hungry, but his first concern was checking on Noctis again. He made his way over to the bed, sitting down gently, but the boy wasn’t stirring yet, so he set the bottle down on the nightstand. He looked over to Gladio and tried not to sigh, hoping Noctis would glean a little more rest yet. Quietly he said, “I’m not sure what we should do. Common sense says we should get as far away as possible, as quickly as possible. But we shouldn’t run about blindly, like headless chickens.”
Gladio politely swallowed his mouthful of eggs before agreeing. “We can’t stay here too long. City’s way too close. I know they say ‘the closer we are to danger, the farther we are from harm’, but it puts me on edge.”
Ignis tilted his head, a small smile coming to his lips. “On edge? I’d never have known,” he said. “You’re remarkably composed.”
“That’s the pot calling the kettle white,” Gladio said with a grin. He’d misused the phrase on purpose, but Ignis knew what he’d meant. “You look invincible when you’ve got Noct in your arms. You know, if I didn’t know better.”
“‘Invincible’,” Ignis repeated, a soft laugh pushing through his unbidden sigh. “I can only hope.”
“Don’t worry.” Gladio patted Ignis’ leg, startling him slightly. “We got this. Two heads are better than one; we’ll figure out the next step. But the first step is breakfast.”
Handed the bowl of eggs, Ignis dutifully ate, almost begrudging the need to, while Gladio went out into the bathroom to clean up for the morning. (From the sounds he could hear through the thin walls, he assumed he was taking neither a bath nor a shower. Possibly he was sink-bathing, given the length of time he was gone, though Ignis didn’t especially care one way or the other. There were greater concerns than the finer details of Gladio’s hygiene, as long as he wasn’t noticeably disgusting.)
Noctis was still sleeping, perhaps concerningly or perhaps miraculously (Ignis had yet to decide), when Gladio returned looking somewhat refreshed and mildly damp. The eggs had been mostly eaten, though Ignis had saved a few bites for when Noct most likely awoke.
On that note, Ignis quietly told Gladio, “I’d like to go out and help again today, as well as keep an ear out for news, but I feel it would be cruel to wake Noct before he’s ready for the day.”
Gladio nodded sagely. “Never wake a sleeping baby,” he said. “‘Cuz you never know when the next time they’re gonna sleep is. I think that’s more for new parents, but still.”
“If we’re not new parents, what are we?” Ignis said, a comment that was meant as a rhetorical question, until it sat there for a moment and he realized it was genuine. It was something they had seemed to be on the same page about, but they hadn’t spoken about it explicitly. “When people see us out with Noct, what ought we to tell them? We can’t tell them that he’s…”
Even in the quiet of a place they were fairly certain was safe, Ignis refused to say it. The few times anyone had called Noctis the prince, he’d almost felt his blood boil in nervous anticipation of something bad happening.
“Brothers,” Gladio answered, easy as anything. Then he quirked half of a humorless smile. “That’s what I thought at first. But, uh, I think maybe one of us could pass as a brother. Probably not both of us.”
“No, and it isn’t smart to have multiple stories,” Ignis added. “The truth will be hard enough to keep, let alone lies stacked one atop another. It would be better to have one lie.”
“Kind of a big lie,” Gladio said, one eyebrow raised just a little.
“And kind of not,” Ignis responded. “If he’s not technically our son, he’s certainly ours. That’s not a lie.”
Gladio’s usual charming smile returned to his face. “Fair enough,” he said. It was clear he was not opposed to this half-lie of Noctis being their child, even though it was built upon the whole lie of them being together. He put on a sort of teasing grin and grabbed Ignis’ hand, threading their fingers together.
Ignis ducked and shook his head, hiding his expression. He didn’t know what look was on his face, but he feared it might be something less collected than he preferred. He could hear Gladio chuckle as he let go of his hand, probably assuming that Ignis had just barely put up with the silly act. In reality, it had surprised him, yes, but it had also come as a great relief. Gladio’s hand was not something he was accustomed to holding, but through that moment of strangeness he had also felt a sense of safety, a sense of being connected to another. It had meant he wasn’t alone.
The greater relief was that even an illusion of a relationship between them would serve as one more tether to hold Gladio to their tiny party.
For the time being, they agreed that Ignis would sit in the room with Noct until he woke for his breakfast. Gladio, on the other hand, would go out and check with Cindy and Cid for any Crownsguard duties he might fulfill, while keeping an ear out for news. Ignis followed Gladio out into the living room on his way, just to check with Cindy that it was absolutely alright that he not aid them this morning.
“Don’t you worry,” Cindy said as she tied up her boots. “We can get by without ya for now. You just take care of your little one. And yourself. And I’ll come back and check on ya in a little while, okay?”
Ignis avoided sighing until she had shut the door behind her. It was odd, to be left almost entirely alone, after being surrounded by crowds for days. He had used to spend much of his time alone, quietly reading and studying for what sometimes seemed like endless exams. He’d never liked to be idle though, so while Noct continued to sleep, he tidied up around the little home, listening to radio as he went, and poking through some of the paperwork on Cid’s desk. He wasn’t harming anything, he told himself. There wasn’t much of note, anyway; it was mostly stacks of receipts and invoices.
To entertain himself while waiting for Noctis to awake, he browsed through the small bookshelves scattered throughout the house. It was harder than usual to lose himself in the words; his ears kept straining to hear any noise from Noctis’ corner of the house, and eventually he became too distracted to even bother. He grabbed the book most likely to hold his attention and went to sit cross-legged on the floor in Cindy’s room, and wait.
It was about two hours after everyone had left that Noct finally deigned to join them in the world of the waking, at which point Ignis propped him up among the horde of stuffed animals, handed him the bottle of milk, and went to go make a fresh egg for his breakfast. Noct sat drowsily among the plushies and drank, and Ignis thanked the gods that he was a sleepy baby.
“Your nursemaids won’t be coming around anymore,” he said in apology when he came back with a fresh plate of scramble. “And that’s one thing I’m afraid I can’t learn. Cow’s milk and my meager attempt at cooking will have to suffice.”
Noct seemed happy enough, especially once he got his little hands on the eggs, though Ignis could tell he was still a little stressed out in his quiet way. He was just grateful there had been no major meltdowns thus far. Was it royal temperament, he wondered, or just luck?
A little before lunch time, Gladio returned with an update. “There’s still a steady stream of people coming from the capital,” he told Ignis as he poured himself a cup of water from the kitchen sink and chugged it down. “Not like the first day, but still, I dunno, hundreds of people an hour. Lotta people moving on from here too. Sounds like Lestallum is opening up for refugees, so people are headed there.”
“Is that the best move then?” Ignis asked. He was sitting at a small kitchen table, vaguely attempting to read as Noct sat on his lap and played with the floppy ears of a plush bunny. He hoped Cindy didn’t mind receiving it back a little soggier than it had been. “Would it be better to go where everyone else goes? Or better to go where the crowd isn’t?”
“Not sure,” Gladio said, crossing his arms. “It’s a long walk, one way or the other. Seen some busses go by, but not nearly enough to take everyone. Not sure where they’re going, either.”
Ignis tried to think about what he’d do if it was solely his choice, if it were only him who would be affected by it, but it was a hard decision. “What do you propose then?” he asked Gladio, as the young man didn’t seem to mind fielding the decisions from time to time.
“Let’s just hold on for now,” he said, and Ignis nodded. Gladio added, “If you’re feeling up to it, the chef says he could use your help in the kitchen again.”
“I think I can manage.” Ignis stood and handed Noct over to Gladio. “If you can help me get Noct situated.”
Gladio tilted his head. “You don’t think we should just leave him in the room?”
Although Ignis knew that it would be safer in many ways, by keeping Noct out of sight of anybody who might mean him harm or cause him harm accidentally, he just wasn’t comfortable with it. Cindy’s room wasn’t baby-proofed, and although they could make it so without too much fuss, he just didn’t like the idea of Noctis being by himself. The little prince had never had to be by himself, ever, probably in his entire life, and now simply didn’t seem like the time to start.
“I’d rather have him with me,” he said, and at Gladio’s nod tied his overshirt around him like it’d been the previous day. Together they worked to slot Noctis into the spot at the back, shoving the stuffed bunny between them. It wasn’t the safest thing, but neither was it too precarious, and if Gladio thought that it wasn’t the best possible choice then he kept that thought private. Ignis hoped he at least respected that Ignis would never do anything actively detrimental to the prince, even if such a sling would have been frowned upon in the palace. They had to work with what was available to them.
Noctis secured, they went back out into the warm August day, drawing attention almost immediately. Those who recognized them seemed happy to see them again, like they were some small beacon of hope, even though there was next to no way any of them could have known their specific identities. Perhaps it was the relief of spying someone who could be relied upon, like a storied general entering the battlefield, or maybe it was just that people liked babies.
On his way to the diner, Cindy caught him and pulled him over to a slice of pavement that was slightly more private. “Gladio mighta already told you, but the word about town today is Lestallum’s taking refugees.” She played peek-a-boo with Noctis as she relayed the information. “You three gonna stay the night again?”
“We don’t want to overstay our welcome,” Ignis told her, “but if that’s what’s best, then that’s what we’ll do. With your leave.”
“Aww, well, you’re welcome any time,” she said, “you know that. As for what’s best, I can’t tell ya. But if I can help ya figure it out, I will.”
“Much appreciated,” Ignis said, giving her a calm smile.
Returning to the diner, he checked in with the chef, who was visibly relieved to have his helper back. “Got people clamoring for your cooking,” Takka said, grinning in a harried sort of way. “You’d think beggars can’t be choosers, but I guess some people cope with stress by complaining. And apparently my fried rice ain’t up to snuff this morning.”
“My apologies,” Ignis said wryly. “I didn’t mean to usurp your title as master of fried rice.”
Throughout the day, he took turns with cooking and dishes, chores interspersed with walks outside to get some fresh air and assess the current situation. It was certainly much less stressful than the day before, although it was not something he relished doing on the regular.
A few hours before what would be quitting time, if there weren’t people working around the clock to keep people safe and fed, Ignis noticed a change in the air. People had become more subdued, a little somber on top of the already bleak hopelessness that had pervaded the rest stop. Even those who were affecting to be cheerful had been taken down a notch. The reason became clear when Cindy came to find him a little while later, pulling him away from gathering stacks of dishware in the crowded diner. (Takka gave her an understanding wave, although Ignis still wasn’t sure if the man knew who he was, or if he was simply deferring to the lady’s needs.)
“I didn’t want ya to hear from rumors,” she said a little hurriedly as they shuffled through the crowds to find a quieter spot behind the store. “But there’s been an announcement, on the radio.”
Ignis could already guess where this was going, or at least the general direction, but he let her continue. If it was what he thought it might be, he didn’t want to be the one to say it anyway.
“The Empire’s on the Insomnia airwaves, sayin’ this is an official occupation. They… they say the royal family is dead. Regis, and the little prince.”
A chill ran through Ignis, prickling his skin despite the warmth of the evening. This was what they had expected. The Empire was ruthless. There was little to no chance that they would ever just leave Insomnia alone, and they certainly wouldn’t leave the king to reunite his people. But he still didn’t want to hear it.
Cindy could see the feelings written clearly on his face. Her own expression brightened a little. “But there’s always the chance they’re lyin’, just to make people feel hopeless. After all–” She looked around, then pitched her voice down. “After all, we know they’re lyin’ about the prince.”
As if grabbed by instinct, Ignis reached for Noctis’ little hand and held it tight. The boy couldn’t possibly understand what was going on, but he was a fairly sensitive child and Ignis worried he might feel the change in their emotions. He feared he wasn’t guarding his particularly well. “You’re right,” he said to Cindy, through his dry mouth. “There may be hope yet.”
Neither of them really truly believed that Regis was likely to have escaped, but it was true that the Empire was obviously just saying what benefitted them most. It was a hope they could hold on to anyway, for the time being.
The news had put an abrupt end to Ignis’ work day, so they retired to Cid and Cindy’s apartment, finding that Gladio was already waiting for them there, having heard the news himself. They settled quietly into the small living room; the silence felt like a wake held preemptively in a hospital waiting room. As Cindy went out to gather Cid, Gladio reached for Noct and cradled him against his chest. Ignis was glad to share the child and the comfort his warm living presence could provide. He knew Gladio must have been feeling that same oppressive darkness that had been trying to creep into his heart since the news fell from Cindy’s lips.
But then Gladio said something that hadn’t really occurred to Ignis, and guilt washed over him.
“If the king went down, my dad went down with him.”
Ignis didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t say something trite and optimistic, couldn’t suggest that maybe they were both alright. Gladio was staring off into the middle distance, already coming to terms with this new reality. Ignis should have offered condolences, shouldn’t he have? But he had no idea how to do so, and he wasn’t sure Gladio would even want to hear such a thing.
“I’m just worried about Iris,” he continued. “Whatever happened with my dad, he couldn’t be there to protect her.”
“She had guardians, didn’t she?” Ignis asked hopefully. He knew that the families of the protectors of the crown were usually guarded almost as well as the crown itself. The shield was a prestigious family; little Iris was the closest thing the palace had to a princess. Somebody had to have been watching over her.
“There were whole networks,” Gladio replied, nodding. “A lot of secrecy though. I don’t know who she’d be with, or where they woulda gone.”
“Then she’s probably safe,” Ignis told him, not feeling that this was lip service. He hadn’t any gut feeling about it; he’d only met Gladio’s little sister a few times. But he knew the Crownsguard were reliable– especially the trained adults who had been doing this for years. If just the two of them had managed to keep Noctis safe, then the rest of the Crownsguard and their families had undoubtedly escaped the worst of the trouble. “I’m sure we’ll hear from them if we keep our ears open.”
“...Yeah,” Gladio said, nodding, and Ignis could see that he was heartening somewhat. “I have a few contacts that don’t stay in the city. I’ll check in with them when I can.”
“Might be a good place to start,” Ignis suggested, given their dearth of more concrete plans.
“Right.” Gladio nodded again. He continued staring off into the middle distance, but now he was making plans and maps in his head.
Ignis technically knew the maps of the area, but he didn’t know them with any experience, not the way Gladio did. This was nearly his first time out in the dusty plains, and he knew he would absolutely have to follow Gladio’s lead in this. It was relieving that he had some idea of where to go, who to talk to. Again Ignis felt an incredible weight off his shoulders, to not have to go this alone; still every gram of metaphorical weight removed translated into a lingering fear that Gladio might leave him, leave them, alone at some point, to struggle through the terrible unknown.
But he would not say such a thing to Gladio. In part it was because there was still a lack of trust between them– not filled with dis trust, just waiting for time to do its part in fortifying it. But more than that, it also spoke to insecurities Ignis was loathe to admit. He should be a rock for Noctis, not a quivering childish mess of abandonment issues. And that was why he needed Gladio.
Cindy soon returned with Cid in tow, and Noctis changed hands again almost as soon as they were in the door. Gladio didn’t seem to begrudge Cid the chance to feel Noct’s real weight in his arms. It was his turn to feel the real, living assurance that the Empire’s claims weren’t entirely true. None of them could repeat what Ignis and Cindy had spoken about before, about the faint possibility of Regis’ survival. They couldn’t say it, despite all thinking it. They couldn’t speak that hope into the air; it was too fragile already.
“You heard the news,” Cid rasped, sounding not broken, but just a little rustier than before. “The Empire’s serious about this occupation. No knowing what their plans are, but you can bet this ain’t the last of it. Now that we know for sure, I think we ought to come up with a plan for the three of ya.”
“We’re heading to Longwythe,” Gladio told him. “To check in with a friend of mine, a crown informant. After that… depends on what he has to say.”
“That’s a little iffy for my likin’,” Cid admitted, “but it’s some kinda plan, at least. Might be the best we can do right now.”
They all agreed that if Gladio’s man didn’t have anything useful for them, the three of them could always come back to the Hammerhead– at least for a short while. But they also seemed to be silently in agreement that the rest stop was simply too close to the capital for comfort, after the announcement. That they’d stayed two days was retroactively stressful enough.
“How long will it take to get there?” Ignis asked Gladio.
He gave a shrug. “Couple hours, maybe, depending on the roads. Creatures’ve been cleared out almost half a mile back from the road around here. Had to go out a ways to hunt today. But I don’t know how it is out there, between the outposts.”
“Then we’ll stay here another night,” Ignis said to Cid and Cindy, confident enough in that decision to forge ahead without consulting his partner. “If that’s not too much trouble for you, of course.”
“That’s fine with me,” Cid said. “Might be the last time I get to see the little guy for a while.” He looked down at Noctis, who was playing with a zipper on his jacket, then over at his two keepers. “You two take a little time for yourselves this evening. Me’n Cindy’ll handle the kid until bed time.”
Protest rose up in Ignis’ throat again, like a mild case of heartburn. “Are you sure?” he asked. The idea of giving Noct over to someone else, potentially leaving his sight, put him on edge. Mostly, however, he genuinely didn’t want to trouble a tired old man who already had a lot on his plate.
But the way Cid looked at the baby, it was pretty clear that it was no trouble at all. He liked babies and, more than that, he loved and was loyal to Noctis in a way that even Ignis could not understand. Realizing that, Ignis nodded his approval and let Cid wander off to the kitchen, bouncing Noct in his arms.
Genuine alone time was going to be hard to come by in the near future, both he and Gladio were aware, but at the moment neither of them wanted to be entirely by themselves; nor did they want to be cooped up in a small and silent room to await the end of the evening. Gladio caught Ignis’ eye and tilted his head at the door, and Ignis followed him out back behind the stop, where they sat against a wall in the shadow cast by the glaringly bright truck-stop lights up front. Gladio breathed deeply and stared out at the stars.
It was clear that he was comfortable out there. They’d certainly both appreciated being able to sleep inside the night before, in a safe and climate-controlled space, but outside was obviously Gladio’s comfort zone. Finally being away from most people (without the room to set up tents, there were only a few loiterers around, wanting their own bit of privacy), a lot of the tension faded from Gladio’s shoulders. It was just a temporary reprieve, but it was something.
“I’ve always loved being out here on a warm summer night,” he said softly, a gentle monologue without real purpose. “The sound of crickets and bats chirping. Wind racing around the plains, whistling around rocks. It’s musical. Even the stars are musical.” He gestured up at them with his nose. “When you’re far enough away from everyone, you can hear ‘em twinkling.”
“I suppose it’s too loud to hear them now,” Ignis commented, glancing around the corner behind him at the mild chaos of a hundred refugee families camped on the pavement.
“Yeah,” Gladio said. “But I know what they sound like.”
They sat there quietly for a while, breathing the fresh air and appreciating each other’s calm company. Having Gladio at his side was certainly better than being alone, Ignis thought, but sitting there in companionable silence made him realize that he still didn’t know Gladio all that well, for all the time they’d spent together in the previous year or so. They were friends, and they had become something more, some kind of accidental partners in the crime of trying to protect the crown. But as he and Gladio leaned against each other out there under the stars, he began to realize that they were strangers too. He wasn’t sure what to do about it; he wasn’t sure if there was anything to do about it. Ignis had never had much in the way of friends. All he could do, he figured, was keep doing what he needed to.
Eventually they’d soaked up enough fresh air and ambient starlight and went back inside. Cid wasn’t waiting for them to take Noct back, so Ignis suggested that Gladio use the time to take a bath.
“Oh, do you think I smell?” he asked, such a slight smirk on his face that Ignis wasn’t sure he wasn’t imagining it.
He was probably joking, and he probably did smell, given the days of hunting in the same clothes, but of course Ignis had meant nothing offensive by it. He balked for a moment and then found himself bristling as he replied, “Bathe or don’t. I just wanted to offer you the opportunity, as you were kind enough to offer to me previously.”
Gladio’s expression melted into something Ignis would almost swear was pitying. He said, “I know,” and softly shoved at Ignis’ shoulder as he walked past, towards the bathroom. “Well I guess I oughta take advantage of your kindness.”
Left alone in the living room as the bathroom door clicked shut, a wave of embarrassment washed over him. What a simple interaction and he’d somehow made it awkward. Of course Gladio had just been teasing him, but he’d worried too much that he’d taken offense. It had been years since he’d been teased, and never by anyone who mattered to him.
He shook his head at himself and tried to stay composed. A few deep breaths later, he took himself to the kitchen, figuring it would be prudent and distracting to check on Noct. Who he found was Cindy, putting away dishes. She looked up at him with a goofy smile and stage-whispered, “The little prince is asleep in paw-paw’s bed. Probably the best sleep paw-paw’s got in a while.”
“I suppose I’ll let them rest for now,” Ignis said, smiling at the image. He understood, because although he hadn’t been able to sleep very deeply the night before, always slightly aware of Noctis’ position and his breathing, it was restful and calming just knowing the child was safe and warm there.
With Noct accounted for, Ignis helped Cindy throw together some food for the rest of them. Back in the living room, some while later, they found Gladio, his hair still wet, dressed in the only clothes he currently owned, sitting on the couch and reading a book. He nodded at them and went back to reading. Quietly the three of them supped on their noodles, Gladio still reading, Ignis and Cindy softly chatting about business around the Hammerhead and other mundane topics.
When their bowls were empty, Cindy gathered them up to take for washing. But with her hands full, balancing the small stack of bowls like a waitress, she turned back to them with a thought.
“Say, I can wash your things for ya, before you head out tomorrow.”
It took Ignis half a moment to realize she was offering to have their clothes cleaned; there was little else in their possession, and nothing that could be washed. “I appreciate the offer,” he said, glancing at Gladio as if he might have some input, and then continuing along when he didn’t, “but we’ve nothing else to wear, and I fear it would be improper–...”
An amused grin overtook Cindy’s face, and Ignis could all but hear her saying, ‘Well ain’t you cute.’ She said, “I’ll grab you some of paw-paw’s shorts. Not sure they’ll fit real good, but you’ll be sleepin’ most of the time anyway.”
Ignis tried not to grimace at the offer, because it was very kind and furthermore something they needed, if they were not going to be passing any laundromats in the coming days. He doubted they were abundant in the Leiden desert.
“Thank you,” he said simply, and Cindy grinned over her shoulder as she left the room.
After a while, Cid wandered back out into the main living space, Noctis still mostly asleep, draped over his shoulder, but squirming a little.
“Good as new,” Cid said, handing him over into Ignis’ lap. The little boy’s fussing increased as he changed hands, just at the edge of proper wakefulness. Gladio put down his book (respectfully, Ignis noted, losing his spot rather than creasing the spine or dog-earring his page) and offered to go grab Noct his nighttime bottle.
Ignis sat there for the next few minutes as the other inhabitants of the apartment came and went, readying themselves for the night. He cuddled Noct to his chest and nosed into his mussed hair, breathing in, closing his eyes. A tension he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying all evening began to wash away.
When Gladio returned with both the warm bottle and a stack of clothing meant to temporarily replace their own, they returned to the stillness of Cindy’s room and settled Noct down amid his legion of plush friends. The child sleepily grabbed the bottle, laid back and closed his eyes, and drank himself to sleep. Gladio handed Ignis one of the pairs of shorts and turned to the door.
“I’ll go change in the bathroom,” he offered, leaving and shutting the door very carefully behind him before Ignis could decide if he wanted to convince himself that they needn’t be so shy. Taking advantage of Gladio’s polite decision, he quickly swapped his well-tailored and well-dusted clothing for the awkward but clean shorts. Cindy was right; they didn’t fit well.
He’d turned out the light and slid under the covers before Gladio returned, so neither of them had to see the other in shorts that wouldn’t likely have properly fit since their earlier teen years. Ignis feared the effect was probably even more pronounced on muscular Gladio. If it was, he didn’t want to know.
“So we leave in the morning,” Ignis said as Gladio settled down on the floor again for the night.
“Best to go before the sun’s up too high,” Gladio told him. “Don’t want you and him to burn any more than you already have.”
“Although it might make for a decent disguise,” Ignis said with a short laugh. Obviously it was an absurd idea, particularly in regards to Noctis, as there was no way that he or any reasonable person would let a baby’s sensitive skin tan, let alone burn. But the idea of changing their appearance was a fair one. “Perhaps hair and clothing first, hmm?”
“Good luck finding new clothes,” Gladio replied wryly. “Even if Cid let us take off with a few of his, well, I think that’d cause more problems than it solves, if you know what I mean.”
Ignis couldn’t say he did know exactly what Gladio meant, but he gathered that they were in agreement that the shorts served as a means to the end of having their own clothes run through a washer, and nothing more.
As for the luck of finding new outfits, Ignis was of the opinion that they were going to need that luck for more than that. Still, he added it to his growing list of hopes and wishes, and wondered if, given everything they’d experienced recently and heard that day, he ought to take up praying to the gods.
Chapter Text
Anxiety about the day woke Ignis up a little earlier than he would have liked, and he crept out of bed and around Gladio to go clean up in the bathroom before the morning rush. He took a quick shower, mindful of the luxury it was, and then stood in the steam and looked at himself in the mirror, his face revealing itself slowly.
He looked tired, like most everyone who’d fled the capital or who was helping the refugees. But he looked older than usual as well. He tried to look at himself through different eyes, as if he were someone else, and with some difficulty and some imagination he thought he could see why others might accept that he was older than his actual years. Maybe he didn’t look fifteen, with baby fat having worn off several years earlier, and the faint purple under his eyes lending him the look of a struggling new parent. He ran the towel over his hair, studying how its volume changed the perception of his facial shape. When he brushed it down, he looked more youthful. Mussed, it gave him a sort of indeterminable age.
On a whim he pushed it up off of his face, trying to mimic Gladio’s upstanding hairstyle. It was too long to stand on its own, even damp, so he borrowed some product he found on a shelf, something he imagined Cindy used to stiffen her curls. It was sort of rakish, he thought, turning his head this way and that in the mirror. It didn’t look like Gladio’s, but it did look different than his had used to. It was interesting how it made him look like such a different person, too. He hoped that anyone who had just caught a glimpse of him with the prince might be just confused enough by the difference.
When he got back to the room, Gladio was stirring, sitting up with a big stretch and a yawn. This time he didn’t even have a shirt to try to cover his chest. Oddly, being on such open display actually made the motion feel less provocative to Ignis, but he still kept his gaze a few feet to the left.
“Nice ‘do,” Gladio said as he scratched at his chest (an action which did feel provocative). He looked the very image of a college student who’d stayed up far too late the previous night. It wouldn’t be a stretch to peg him as an overworked but loving father, though he likely wouldn’t be sleeping on the floor if he was.
Ignis remembered what they’d talked about before, agreeing to pose as Noct’s parents. They hadn’t exactly specified that that would imply they were married, but he imagined Gladio had probably come to that conclusion as well. If they were married, would they have been high school sweethearts? They were passing as adults, but still quite young, and with a one year old child that they’d probably planned for, shouldn’t they have been married a while already? That would make them at least twenty, he figured. People would believe they were twenty, wouldn’t they?
“I thought I’d try something different,” Ignis replied as his mind ran through the details of their imaginary relationship status. “In case anyone found my style memorable before. I can’t do anything about the clothes for the time being, but hair was within my purview.”
“Not much I can do with this,” Gladio said, ruffling his own hair, which was as yet too short to do more than stand there.
“You could buzz it off,” Ignis suggested, though he couldn’t say he liked the idea much more than Gladio, who grimaced at the thought.
“If you think it’d really help,” he said, obviously none too keen. “Think I’d rather let it grow instead.”
It wouldn’t help disguise them much, but Ignis hoped and planned not to encounter anyone they truly needed to hide from anyway.
Gladio took his turn in the bathroom, and came back with a stack of their freshly laundered clothing, which was no small blessing. Ignis was so glad to have his own clothes back that he started changing into them with little regard for Gladio’s presence, turned half away and completely uncaring if Gladio watched as he stripped off the borrowed shorts. He heard the rustling behind him that indicated Gladio was doing the same, so he took a few extra moments buttoning his overshirt and straightening the collar.
Noct slept through the whole thing, so they left him to keep resting for the time being and headed out into the living room, where Cid and Cindy were drinking their morning coffees.
“Headin’ out today, eh?” Cid asked, noting Ignis’ new hair style and probably the resolve on his face.
“That’s the plan, Gladio said. “We need to meet up with the rest of the Crownsguard. I’ve got a couple leads to follow.”
“And say they come lookin’ for you here?” Cid asks. “Where should I send ‘em?”
Gladio glanced at Ignis. They hadn’t decided on a final destination. It was all still so unknown. But Gladio said, “We’ll head towards Galdin for now. Maybe catch a ship to wherever’s furthest away from the Empire. I dunno.”
Cid just nodded, acknowledging the unfortunate truth that nobody really knew the plan right then, but that that seemed like good enough of one.
“Alright,” he said, just a little bit resigned. “You kids take care. Maybe we’ll meet again under better circumstances.” With a nod, he took his coffee cup to the kitchen, then headed out to work.
Cindy didn’t have much to say, but she looked a little wistful. “I wish I could do more,” she said. “But at least I know I don’t have to worry about the little guy. I know he’ll be in good hands.”
“What you’ve done has already been invaluable,” Ignis assured her.
At Cindy’s insistence, they put together a travel pack from what they could scrape together. Cid and Cindy didn’t have too much to spare, but she pushed an old backpack into Gladio’s hands and then helped him fill it with helpful little odds and ends.
Once they were about ready to leave, Ignis woke and fed Noct, hoisted him up into his arms (now at least somewhat rested), and joined Gladio in the living room. But Cindy rushed back into her room with a quick, ‘wait right there, y’all!’, and swiftly reappeared with one last gift: a plush moogle toy for Noct. It was wearing a little shirt and shorts.
“Here,” she said, with a sad smile. “Please take this. I know it’s not really helpful, but I can’t stand the idea of him not having a toy or somethin’ nice to play with. And if you need to, I reckon’ he could wear the clothes too.”
“That’s incredibly kind of you, Miss Cindy,” Ignis said, grateful that someone was thinking of Noct’s happiness and not just his survival. He handed the toy to Noct, wedging it between his arm and the baby so it wouldn’t fall. Noct stuck one of his hands in the soft fur and kneaded. “Ba,” he said, which Ignis figured meant he was happy, if not actually thankful.
Cindy sighed. “Oh, it ain’t nothin’,” she said, and then surprised them by wrapping the three of them in a hug. “You just… take care.”
There was nothing left for them to do, so they said their final goodbyes and made their way back out into the dangerous world.
It was still nice and cool, that early in the day, and there wasn’t yet too much commotion. Many people were still sleeping, or just quietly huddled around steaming bowls of whatever Takka was serving. Still, there was always a stream of people heading in and out of the Hammerhead, and they joined the stream heading west to a little town Gladio knew of, where he hoped to find his informant.
Being out on the road again reminded Ignis of the first day, running from the capital, though it was less crowded and they had the benefit of being both physically and mentally prepared. Whereas that day they’d sometimes found themselves elbow to elbow with other refugees, now the groups of travelers kept somewhat to themselves. The closest group was just within shouting distance, far enough to be private, but close enough to warn of danger.
Danger only appeared once on their way, the whole path having been largely cleared out thus far. Even so, the creatures had become unpredictable in response to the sudden influx of humans. Gladio went to help take down a pack of dog-like beasts, and returned within almost no time.
“Thought about bringing back some meat, but I didn’t think it’d be much good,” he said. Instead he held up a handful of talons. “Grabbed these though. I dunno what anyone uses them for, but they sell like hotcakes.”
As they walked, at a somewhat meandering pace set by the group in front of them, Ignis decided to bring up the idea of their imaginary relationship and the false identities it required. “Telling people that we’re fifteen while carrying around this infant will almost certainly raise some eyebrows,” he said. “And some suspicions.”
“Speak for yourself,” Gladio said jokingly. “I’m sixteen. Been told I don’t look a day over twenty-three though.”
“I thought I might pass for nineteen or twenty,” Ignis suggested, still only hopeful that such a lie was plausible.
“Alright,” Gladio said. “If you’re 20, then I’m 21. That works out. I’ll be able to buy booze.” He laughed, obviously joking, but Ignis gave him a look anyway. He knew Gladio wouldn’t… Well… He was again reminded that he didn’t actually know Gladio that well. He thought the boy, the… young man… He thought he wouldn’t drink while he was underage and caring for such precious cargo, but he couldn’t be entirely sure, which was just a little distressing.
“Just… wait until we’re somewhere safe, at least,” he eventually said.
Gladio gave him a look in return, as if he was a little disappointed. “Iggy, I’m not gonna be drinking on the job.”
“No, of course not,” Ignis said, feeling a little ashamed. He kept doubting Gladio, often over the littlest things, and he knew it wasn’t fair. He hadn’t shown a single sign of wanting to shirk his duties, and furthermore his family was trained since birth for this very job. (Well, perhaps not this job exactly, but this job essentially.) He had no right to doubt him, and yet Ignis couldn’t get himself to stop. He cleared his throat and decided to move on. “And what are we going to call ourselves? We cannot go by Amicitia. It’s almost as well known as Caelum.”
“Scientia,” Gladio replied, as if it were obvious. “Your family isn’t from around here, right?”
“Not exactly,” Ignis said. “I’ve had family in the city for generations, on my mother’s side, but the name immigrated with my father, as I understand.”
He very rarely spoke of his family because they had simply never played an important part in his life. He’d been living in boarding school dormitories since he was a child, and on his own in his palace quarters for the past few years. He thought so little about his parents that it hadn’t even occurred to him to be worried about them when the invasion happened, certainly not the way Gladio was concerned about his. Ignis wondered what it was like to care that much about family. He could hardly imagine it.
“It will do for now,” he said, not looking Gladio in the eye.
“‘Gladio Scientia’,” Gladio tried out. “‘Noct Scientia’. Hmm. I think ‘Ignis Amicitia’ would’ve sounded better, but oh well. I don’t wanna sound ungrateful for you giving me your name.”
Trying valiantly not to blush, Ignis said, “You can give it right back as soon as you’re done with it.” But Gladio was right, he thought; Ignis Amicitia did have a much better ring to it. “‘Gladiolus Scientia’ sounds better, if you’re looking for something that flows nicely.”
“Anonymity is probably a little more important,” Gladio allowed with a puff of laughter. “Think I’ll even give up the ‘lus’ for now, just in case. What about you? Wanna officially go by Iggy?”
Ignis grimaced. “I won’t be introducing myself as such, thank you, but you’re free to call me whatever you like.”
This obviously pleased Gladio. “Alright, Iggy baby,” he said with a smirk, and Ignis had to fight off several conflicting emotions, at least one of which was nausea.
As they approached Longwythe, Gladio explained that he was looking for a man called David, who worked as a hunter out in Leide and Duscae, but also reported back to the Amicitias with information about the safety of the country. He wasn’t on any official royal payrolls, but it was a job he’d done for years, out of loyalty to Clarus. He and Gladio had gone hunting a few times together, during Gladio’s regular self-imposed survival training missions. Dave was a trusted individual, and all the safer for never being officially connected to the crown. Nobody who was looking for the prince would ever think to ask him.
Unfortunately, Dave didn’t seem to be at his hunting shack when they arrived, and his dog wasn’t around either.
“Hmm. I wasn’t sure he’d be here,” Gladio admitted. “It’s not like this is his house. He and some other hunters just use it when they’re working in the area.”
“Could you look inside?” Ignis suggested, as they stood outside the apparently empty shack. “Perhaps there’s some indication of where he’s gone.”
“Yeah, could be,” Gladio said, though when he tried the handle, it was locked, which surprised neither of them. “Maybe I could…”
Ignis shook his head. “Better not,” he said, watching Gladio’s eyes look for weak spots in the door frame. He glanced around the rest stop, hoping they didn’t look suspicious. It was the middle of the day, and there were quite a few people milling about. Lingering around the shack any more than they had already was bound to draw attention.
“It’s our best shot at finding out where he went,” Gladio said, but he turned his attention to the rest of the small town instead. “Guess we could ask around first.”
“Before resorting to trespassing, I think that would be a good idea.”
It was possible that Dave was in the area, out hunting, or perhaps escorting refugees. Maybe he would return later. They asked around at the gas station in front of the hotel, and then at the diner across from it. According to the cook, it had been just a little too long since he’d seen Dave; there were some nasty beasts that needed taken care of, and their resident hunter hadn’t shown his face since before the refugees started pouring in.
Gladio glanced at Ignis. They didn’t say a word, but Ignis still knew what his partner was asking. When he didn’t respond one way or the other, Gladio turned to the cook and offered to take care of whatever creatures were troubling them.
“Don’t go it alone,” the chef told Gladio, concern lining his wrinkled face. “This one here’s only out at night, and I think even Dave would have a hard time handling it solo.”
Gladio almost grimaced, but Ignis noticed that he didn’t hand the bounty sheet back. Pocketing it, he said, “I’ll see if I can gather a crew.”
Outside in front of the diner, Ignis deflated in disappointment. “Your man isn’t here. Where do you suggest we go next?”
“We gotta do something about those daemons first,” Gladio said, looking off into the distance as if he were bothered that he had to even make the choice. “I can’t leave these people unprotected.”
Though there was an anxiousness picking at Ignis’ heart with every moment they stood around, Ignis couldn’t possibly argue with him. It was the Crownsguard’s duty to protect the crown, but when they could they had to watch out for its people as well.
The early afternoon was spent checking with the various groups of people settled on the sidewalks and under the awning of the hotel. Longwythe was a very small town, hardly bigger than the Hammerhead, and it was comprised mostly of the diner and hotel. A few small houses sat behind them, likely to house the workers. They made a round of the whole place, Gladio asking every vaguely-strong looking man if he was willing to help take out either of the two bounties he’d collected, but the people were tired and uninterested. Longwythe had not opened itself to the refugees the same way Hammerhead had, and the people here were less rested and worse fed.
When Gladio suggested to a few of them that the bounty could net them money as well as meat, a few men agreed to straggle along after him to take care of the daytime creatures. None, however, were willing to go out into the dark and deal with daemons. This was one of the biggest differences between civilians and Crownsguard, Ignis thought, and one of the reasons Crownsguard and Kingsglaive were so needed. He supposed the hunters certainly did their share in keeping the populace safe, but without them the civilians (especially the ones from the city) just couldn’t manage the dangers so common to the Leiden wilderness.
The rag-tag group of would-be hunters returned home before long, bearing the meat they were promised, and they set it up to roast behind the diner. Quite a few refugee families were attracted by the warm roasting smell, and Gladio strong-armed his hunting assistants into sharing, even with those who had refused to go out with them. (They were still given their share of the bounty money; Ignis noticed it was split evenly between them, even though he would have bet it all that Gladio had done the bulk of the work.)
As grateful as the assembled families were for the food, still none of them were willing to offer their sword-arm to fight the daemon bounty.
“They’ll stay away from the town, right?” several people asked, when Gladio requested their help again. They knew daemons avoided bright lights, and that was enough reassurance for them. They were apologetic, but too afraid.
Disappointed, Gladio took the poster back to the diner.
“Sorry, I can’t get anyone together to handle this one,” he said, handing the folded paper back to the cook. “I’d go myself, but… I need to protect my family.”
The cook was disappointed. Gladio was disappointed. Ignis felt guilty and awkward. He regretted it, even as the next words came out of his mouth: “I could help,” he said quietly to Gladio, just fielding the idea because it felt impossibly wrong not to.
Mild shock came over Gladio’s face. “Yeah, I bet you could,” he replied. “But you wouldn’t take Noct out there.”
“How long would it take?” Ignis asked, his gaze sliding from Gladio to the cook.
The cook looked between the two of them, as if trying to gauge if he should even answer that question. But then he seemed to figure it was information someone was going to need if this bounty were to be filled, and he said, “It’s not a ten minute walk to where the thing was sighted. That’s why it’s such a high priority bounty. It’s getting too close to the town.”
Ignis deliberated hard for a long moment, biting his lip. He didn’t consult Gladio either verbally or visually before he said to the cook, “Would you be able to watch Noct while we’re gone?”
Gladio was vaguely stunned; Ignis didn’t think the young man had ever looked at him with such disbelief before. The cook was obviously not thrilled either, at the idea of watching someone’s kid, and Ignis just shook his head because the man didn’t know the half of it. He was freaking out a bit himself, but as Crownsguard he felt this was the right thing to do. He couldn’t risk Gladio attempting this himself and coming to harm, and he could not possibly ask these civilians to handle it. But most of all, he couldn’t allow a daemon to come and prey upon these refugees.
The cook understood this too, to a degree. So he agreed.
Summoning his resolve, Ignis handed Noct across the counter, but not before planting a kiss on his little head. It was something he’d never done before, always feeling it was too personal. But their relationship now had to be personal for it to be believable. More than that, he felt a sense of sadness at having to leave Noct with someone else, even for just a short while, even for a reason as important as the safety of his people. Ignis was genuinely sad about leaving him to the mercies of fate, as if it was likely that he wouldn’t be returning. Even the small chance that he may not return, may not take up his careful watch of his most precious majesty, depressed him.
But it was the choice he’d made, and he had to do his best.
“We’ll return shortly,” he told the cook, bowing his head.
“You’d best,” the cook replied. “I don’t know the first thing about babies.”
“Just hold ‘im,” Gladio said, reaching across the bar to ruffle Noct’s hair. Ignis could see that he was sad or worried too, though he was trying not to show it. “Let him have some french fries if he gets real upset.”
Ignis didn’t argue about french fries being unhealthy; at this point, what Noct ate was probably the issue of absolute least importance. He’d been lucky to have anything to eat, the past few days.
As they left the diner, Noctis began to fuss, but his two guardians could only grimace over their shoulders at the cook. They all knew they had to go.
It was nearly dark by then; the lights had come on in the little town, and only a faint glow persisted on the horizon, over the edges of the mountains that mostly surrounded them. “Let’s go,” Ignis said, knowing that his voice sounded cold. He would have led the way to get them there sooner, but he had to wait for Gladio, and even that moment of lingering made his muscles bunch up tensely. If he had to go, then he wanted to go quickly.
Gladio didn’t hesitate longer than a moment, gazing at Ignis like he was trying to gauge if he was absolutely sure about this without asking, because he already knew that voicing that concern would only make Ignis mad. But after the moment was over, he nodded and unslung his sword, and started the trek into the darkening countryside.
“I scouted the place earlier,” he said as he led on confidently. “There’s a couple high rocks we can watch from.”
They arrived at the boulder before it was fully dark, and Gladio informed Ignis about the finer details of the mark. “The bounty is for an imp, but they usually come in groups, even though the bounty only mentions one. It’s probably a leader, with a handful of minions.” He glanced at Ignis for a long moment again. “You’ve never fought a daemon before, have you?”
“I haven’t fought many creatures at all,” Ignis said, trying to rein in his nerves. “Only the ones brought to the capital for training purposes.”
“...It’s easier than fighting humans,” Gladio told him. Ignis knew better than to think the comment was anything other than introspection, because Gladio certainly knew that Ignis had never found a man– not seriously, not to kill. He reflected on the fact that the soldiers Gladio had fought on their way out of the city had likely been the first humans he’d ever killed. The two of them were trained in combat, but even stout Gladio was no hardened soldier. Still, he hadn’t complained about it; he hadn’t said anything about it until now, and it raised in Ignis an awareness of just how admirably Gladio was holding himself together.
It wasn’t long before the imp showed up, followed by its lackeys, but unfortunately it got the drop on them, sneaking up behind them and launching an attack that Ignis barely rolled away from in time. He twisted his right wrist as he caught himself on the ground, though in the moment it felt like little more than a tug. Though not as good at fighting as Gladio, he recovered quickly, and tossed his shortsword to his left hand. It was a little heavy, a little cumbersome when he was used to knives maybe half that length, but he managed by carefully watching Gladio for cues and following his lead.
It wasn’t a stretch to say that Gladio did the majority of the damage, drawing most of the attention from the three imps, and it left Ignis to whittle at the ones trying to circle behind him. The fight was probably less than three minutes long, but it felt like an eternity by the time they were done, Ignis panting not just from the exertion and the exhilaration, but the pain that had finally taken up in his wrist. Gladio was slightly winded, but nowhere near as badly.
“Thanks for having my back,” he said, appreciative of Ignis’ support. “Glad I didn’t try to take that one on solo. Those things are tricky.”
“Happy to help,” Ignis replied, but it was clearly too rote of a response, too distracted. Gladio closed the short distance between them, his expression falling to one of concern.
“You okay?” he asked, before he saw the way Ignis was holding his hand stiffly, how he’d tucked his sword into the wrong side of his belt. “Shit, did they get you?”
Ignis shook his head. “They didn’t touch me. The ground did this, when I tumbled from the rock.”
Gladio grimaced. “Then let’s get back quick, before anything else pops out at us.”
They were lucky, knowing now how stealthy the little daemons could be, that they did get back to town without issue. They made straight for the Crow’s Nest, bracing themselves for a commotion. The diner was pleasantly quiet, however; not a screaming baby within earshot. Inside the diner, they found him stuffing his face with french fries, set up in a corner booth with the cook and a few patrons who liked the distraction a cute baby provided.
“You’re back,” the cook said, a sliver of skepticism clouding his expression. “Did you get ‘em?”
Gladio dropped his trophies on the bar, across the way from the booth. It was funny, Ignis thought; they didn’t bleed a drop, even though they were sliced from the creature mere minutes before. He supposed daemons were different from other beasts. He’d known that, in a book-learned sort of way, but this was proof he’d never seen before. Gladio turned back to the table and leaned down on it, smiling at Noctis.
“Hey Noct,” he said sweetly. “Got somethin’ tasty there?”
Noctis tossed a half-eaten fry on the table so he could babble at Gladio, attempting to struggle to a standing position so he could climb onto the table and make his way to him. The cook slid out of the booth and went back to his spot behind the counter, while Gladio swiftly took his place and gathered Noct into his arms. Ignis stood by the side of the table, appreciating how natural the scene looked.
“He’s your kid?” one of the people on the other side of the table asked, in a friendly way.
Gladio scooted over to make room for Ignis and replied, “He’s ours, yeah.” He shuffled Noct over just enough that he sat between the two of them.
The cook returned with a plate of food, along with a pile of currency. “Here’s your pay,” he said. “And the meal’s on the house. Really can’t thank you two enough.”
Ignis refrained from stating that it was their duty. These people hadn’t apparently pegged them as Crownsguard yet. “It needed to be done,” he said instead, holding Noctis as the little boy collapsed against his shoulder.
“Still, pretty brave,” one of the onlookers said. “I can’t imagine fighting daemons.”
The look Gladio gave them was a gentle one, and it did something to Ignis’ heart. “Yeah, well I guess having a kid changes your perspective on things. We had to go, to keep him safe.”
It was left unspoken, but everyone seemed to understand that perhaps Noctis had been in no real peril, with parents who could and would fend off daemons that wandered too close, but that the point was that any little kid could have gotten hurt by those creatures, and that was something they couldn’t stand for.
Noctis was pretty much asleep by the time the two of them finished their meal, the onlookers having wandered off to wherever they planned to sleep. The whole little town had wound down, and though there were still some fires going, most people were resting in their tents and little piles on the pavement outside. It was quiet.
“I suppose we should have planned our sleeping arrangements earlier in the day,” Ignis said, looking out the window and across the street to the hotel, the NO VACANCY sign lit up in neon red. There wasn’t even much room on the pavement out there. “I suppose…” He felt the bench beneath them. It was hard, though probably less hard than the ground.
But Gladio had a better idea. “Hey,” he called over to the cook, who was finishing cleaning up for the night, planning to go to sleep soon himself. “That hunter’s shack outside. I’m friends with Dave, the guy who usually uses it. Would you mind if we let ourselves in?”
“It’s locked,” the cook told them, “but I’ve got a spare key. I’ll grab it for you.” He set down his rag and disappeared out back, returning a few minutes later with a key.
“Two birds with one stone,” Gladio murmured to Ignis while the man was gone. “I was ready to break in, but hey, this works.”
“I haven’t checked inside recently,” the cook said when he returned, handing the key over. “Sorry if there’s mice or something.”
“I think mice would be the least of our worries,” Ignis said. “Thank you. We’ll return the key in the morning.”
He stood up carefully, trying not to jostle Noct, and they went outside to step carefully around the rough sleepers on the way to the little shack. Gladio unlocked the door; the lock was sticky, but the finagling didn’t draw the attention of any of the nearby refugees. Inside, it was dark; the shack apparently had no power. Through the faint moonlight they could see there was a bed, a little table, a chair, and some shelves. The shelves bore a moderate number of supplies, although Ignis could read none of the labels.
“Not the greatest honeymoon, but what can ya do,” Gladio said. He sat on the bed to test it out. They’d left the door open for the time being, in order to see at least half of what they were doing.
“Don’t be silly,” Ignis responded. “We honeymooned at a resort in the city. I couldn’t get time off to travel because of my demanding internship.”
Gladio laughed. “You’ve thought about this.”
“A little,” Ignis admitted. “I’ve sometimes considered what my life might be like if I didn’t work for the crown. I expect I’d have ended up as a businessman in some highly competitive corporation.”
Gladio pretended to be nauseous. “Yuck. Glad we got you instead.”
There was no doubting that this was a better use of his talents, Ignis thought, even if Gladio was partly joking. He went to sit next to him on the bed. It wasn’t the nicest bed in existence, nor likely in this few square miles of Leiden desert, but it was probably better than the benches at the diner. Although where cushions existed, so could fleas… He tried not to think about it.
“You’ve taken the floor for several nights now,” he said. “Why don’t you sleep with Noct tonight.” He didn’t commit to sleeping either on the floor or in the chair. He hadn’t yet decided which one would be worse.
“I thought we might both fit on the bed,” Gladio suggested. It was a little wider than Cindy’s bed, but not by much. But with the alternative being one of them sleeping somewhere ill-fit for the job, Ignis couldn’t fight the suggestion. Gladio scooted over a little to make room for them to get in. “You take the wall side. Noct can be in the middle. I’ll sleep on the edge. That way, if anyone falls off, it’ll be me.”
Ignis tilted his head at Gladio. “Don’t you think I ought to take the fall occasionally?” he asked. He felt that Gladio had been putting himself on the line, in both small and large ways, more than he should have had to lately.
“Nah,” Gladio said, so casually. “That’s what the shield’s for. Taking the hits. And what kind of shitty shield would I be if I let the Right Hand hurt himself any more than he has to?” He nodded at Ignis’ literal right hand, which he was still holding somewhat carefully. “Should we have had that looked at?”
“By whom?” Ignis asked rhetorically. “No, I’m sure I’ll be fine, if I don’t fight any more daemons for a little while.”
Some kind of smile graced Gladio’s face, but it was just too dark for Ignis to make out the finer details of it. “I’m sure that can be arranged,” Gladio said. “I’d kinda like to not fight any more daemons myself. You can’t eat ‘em.”
Gladio got up from the bed so that Ignis could settle in with Noct, with enough room not to hurt his wrist. He lingered by the door until they had laid down, then closed it softly. Ignis could feel more than see him come back towards them and sit down on the bed, trying to lay down in the darkness without crushing Noct, who was mostly asleep. It was quiet as they settled in, no words passing between them in the dark night. But before he fell asleep, Ignis found himself saying, “Gladio. Thank you.”
“You too,” Gladio responded simply, lightly touching Ignis’ hand. Their arms formed something like the bottom of a heart, Noct’s little body resting between them in the center of it.
When morning came, it was easy for Ignis to tell that Gladio was waking despite the darkness of the closed-up shack, his softly breathing form not a foot away from him. He hadn’t fallen off the bed in the night; he was pretty sure he’d have felt it. Ignis was becoming a light sleeper as he became attuned to Noct’s nocturnal movements, his wiggling and squirming. He would sometimes wake to cry in the middle of the night and need to be soothed back to sleep, and Ignis had noticed that he was usually awake before the squalling occurred, as if he’d been on the lookout for any signs of trouble, even in his sleep.
He half-woke each time Gladio had shifted too, though luckily it hadn’t been that often. It had been a pretty decent night of sleep, one way or the other.
Possibly unaware that Ignis was conscious, Gladio gently removed himself from the bed and went to crack the door to let some light in. He began to rummage around in drawers as quietly as possible, investigating the maps and other papers tacked to the walls. Ignis figured he was looking for any information about where David might have gone or, failing that, where they might go. Ignis didn’t have any clue what to look for, so he didn’t offer help. Noctis was still asleep in his arms besides, so he decided it was best to stay still, lest he waken the beast. He yawned though, which was signal enough to Gladio that he was with him in the waking world. Gladio turned and raised a hand in greeting, but kept silent as well.
Gladio spent a few more minutes studying the papers he found, considering them carefully. He folded one up and stuck it in his pocket, then headed for the door. “I’ll go grab some breakfast,” he whispered, then left, shutting the door behind him and leaving them in darkness. Ignis laid there with Noct, appreciating the rare quiet moment where he felt they were somewhat safe.
The shack wasn’t glamorous; it was certainly no place to raise a child, and they couldn’t stay there forever. But it seemed like perhaps the last place the Empire would ever come looking for them. He imagined the Nif army marching through town (or flying overhead, their creepy magitek soldiers and their human minders leaping from three stories up as if off of a curb or garden wall), and investigating the hotel, the diner, maybe the few houses, but leaving the little locked shed alone. That is, if they even bothered to search such a tiny little town in the first place. Who would hide the prince in a place like this? Moreover, who would settle the prince in a place like this? It made him think that maybe they ought to find some place out of the way. Some place with neighbors, a small community– just enough to warn them if something were amiss. But not the kind of place anyone would think to search.
Then again, would there be better safety in numbers? Could they hide among the crowds in a larger city, full of other Lucian refugees? Perhaps…
If it were an easy decision, he knew they’d have made it by now, or someone would have made it for them. They’d be heading there, wherever it was that was undeniably safest.
Gladio returned, pulling Ignis out of his contemplation. He left the door fully open to let in the late-summer air and light, allowing the gentle morning to wake Noct naturally. It succeeded, mere moments later.
“Roused by the smell of food,” Ignis guessed wryly, as Noctis blearily raised himself to a sitting position and homed in on the scrambled eggs Gladio brought to share.
As Ignis sat cross-legged on the bed, with Noct in his lap, Gladio pulled the chair up close so they could share the plate, and told Ignis what he’d discovered. “I found a list of marks Dave’s been going after. They’re noted by tacks on this map, too,” he said, gesturing to the wall. “Looks like he was gonna scout help from the hunter’s camp up north. I figure we can head that way. If he’s not still in the area, at least some other hunters should be. They’re not all informants, but there’s a kind of a… unspoken partnership between hunters and Crownsguard. They should be able to point us in some kind of direction.”
“As sound a plan as any,” Ignis said, having no other plans to offer. If Gladio thought this whole group of people could be trusted, then Ignis imagined there must be at least one person within the group who could help in some way. “How far is this camp?”
“Not real close,” Gladio said apologetically. “By car it’d be less than half a day. By foot… could be three days.”
Ignis nodded. There was no point in being upset about facts that one could not change. “Then I suppose we’d better get going.”
There wasn’t much they could do to get ready for the day, with no running water and no clean clothes. Gladio helped himself to some spare supplies, stuffing the backpack Cindy had given them with another spare blanket, a flashlight, and some corded rope, and adding in a few rations and potions.
“No spare weapons,” Gladio noted as he finished rummaging through the shack’s contents. Ignis wasn’t sure why they’d need more weapons anyway; it wasn’t as if Noctis could fight, and they already had functional weaponry.
Before heading out into the daylight, Gladio left a hastily scrawled note in the top drawer, apologizing to Dave for ransacking his supplies. (He was sure to understand, if he was in league with the Crownsguard.) Outside, they headed not for the hunter’s camp in the north, but for the vendor set up outside the diner.
“What have you got in the way of weapons?” Gladio asked.
“Not much,” the lady replied apologetically. “I mostly sell trinkets and some curatives.”
“Show me what you got,” Gladio said, and at his suggestion the vendor brought out a small collection of blades, among which was a pair of daggers that were plain, but seemed sturdy. “We’ll take those,” he said, handing over some of the money he’d gotten from the hunt the night before.
“Thank you!” she called as they walked to the edge of town, where Gladio presented the daggers to Ignis.
“That short sword is too heavy to use left-handed. Besides, you like knives better anyway, right?”
“I do,” Ignis admitted, although he accepted the knives only hesitantly, disliking the idea of Gladio spending any of their meager gil on him. Still, he handed the shortsword to Gladio, who tucked it behind his own broadsword.
The knives came with sheaths, thank the gods, but he couldn’t attach them while holding Noctis. Instead of taking the baby, Gladio came around to Ignis’ sides and fitted the sheathes to his belt, one on each side.
“Not exactly battle ready,” he commented, looking at his own handiwork. “We’ll have to get kitted out better later. Maybe the hunter’s camp has some better gear.”
“Do you expect we’ll need it?” Ignis asked, though the question was naive even to his own ears.
“Yeah,” Gladio said simply.
Chapter 4
Notes:
Posting this chapter early because it's the most 'Mother's Day' thing I have available. So, Happy Mother's Day to Ignis, and the rest of the moms and mom-friends out there.
Chapter Text
It was a long walk, with several mountains in the way, so the trip to the hunters’ camp could not be ‘as the crow flies’. Still, there were at least a handful of dusty roads traveling in that direction; better than trails but not quite streets, they were ideal for walking, and mostly avoided by vehicles.
Gladio had taken a small fold-out map from Dave’s shack, and he paused to check their location from time to time. Near the tail end of the afternoon, he pulled them off their path and toward a haven they could safely sleep on. Before they’d come too close to sneak away, they noticed that the haven was already populated.
“Should we press on instead?” Ignis asked, hoisting Noct into a more secure position in his arms.
Without even consulting the map, Gladio shook his head. “There’s nowhere else to go for miles around.” Ignis glanced further down the road, at a cluster of buildings, but Gladio cut him off before he could bother to ask. “Not safe,” he explained. “It’s an abandoned grain silo or something. Came through here a few months back. Didn’t see anyone then.” He gave the buildings another look before shrugging. “Don’t see anyone now.”
“So we take our chances with the strangers,” Ignis guessed.
Laughing, Gladio said, “Hey, don’t worry. They’re more afraid of you than you are of them.”
Ignis doubted anyone had more reason to be afraid than they two, but he also didn’t notice most of the refugees carrying weapons, so it was a fair point, if said in jest.
They tried not to look cagey when they approached the haven stone, and Ignis thought they succeeded in looking the least hostile of the lot. There were two distinct parties huddled on the rock, and the looks they shot them when their heads crested the edge of the haven were twice as defensive as those seen on the masses of refugees at Hammerhead, or even Longwythe. The expressions faded to only mild suspicion when the groups realized the newcomers were not (presumably) soldiers or bandits.
“Welcome,” said one of the men, the apparent father of the slightly larger family. His group seemed almost as if they were simply camping for fun; on their corner of the rock, they’d set up a small tent, and a collection of cooking gear was arranged around the as-yet unlit fire pit. He was the one homeowner of their temporary little town, which may have lent him the title of leader.
The other group was just a mother and father with one school-aged son, and they sat miserably across from the well-appointed group, clearly out of their element.
“Nice set-up you’ve got there,” Gladio said, and it could have easily come across as predatory, if Gladio didn’t exude charm.
“We went camping last week and didn’t put away all of our gear,” the father admitted. Relief radiated off of him for the luck. “It’s been a life-saver. Our only problem now is there’s nowhere to fish around here. We usually head to Duscae for our camping trips.”
Ignis knew already what Gladio was about to offer. He couldn’t let a family go hungry, and they needed food for themselves anyway, so of course he would offer to spare some meat for them. But he could see an opportunity that he didn’t expect the less-shrewd Gladio to consider. “My partner is an avid hunter,” he said, stepping forward to stand more or less at Gladio’s side instead of behind his shoulder. “Perhaps we could trade you some fresh meat for the use of your tent for the night? Our son hasn’t taken very well to the night air.”
The last bit was an exaggeration, as Noct was no more fussy about the weather than probably any toddler would have been, but if Ignis could secure him shelter then he would absolutely do so.
There was a short moment where he could see the assembled group reorganizing their thoughts in regards to his and Gladio’s relationship, and then another moment where the campers’ father fought both annoyance and respect at Ignis’ request. It was only a few breaths before he accepted.
“Sure, alright,” he said. “As long as it doesn’t rain.”
“Doubt that’ll be a problem.” Gladio smirked at Ignis, proud, and then turned to the father with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “I’ve got a spare sword I can lend you, if you wanna spot me.”
The father dutifully agreed, and followed Gladio out into the wilderness without any more discussion. He and his wife shared a glance, but nothing more. They must have decided that Gladio wasn’t likely to murder him out there, with his partner and child still back at camp, and hungry as well.
With the two supposedly strongest men gone, the rest turned to Ignis, who was both the most interesting and perhaps the most commanding figure left.
“Well,” he said, looking around at them. He didn’t have Gladio’s natural camaraderie with others, but he’d planned to be a diplomat (in that old life, which was already beginning to feel a bit distant), so standing straight and speaking to a crowd didn’t cow him. “I trust Gladio to handle the main course, but man cannot subsist on meat alone. There was a stream I saw a short ways back, if anyone would like to accompany me to collect water.”
The camping mother and her pre-teen daughter looked at each other, then had a quiet murmured conversation, before the daughter stood up and came to join him. “I’ll go,” she said, carrying their soup pot and bucket by their swinging handles.
“Can you carry two full buckets?” Ignis asked, skeptical. It was just long enough a distance, over rocky enough a road, that he doubted an eleven year old girl wouldn’t struggle.
“Can’t you carry one?” the girl suggested, raising an eyebrow at him.
Ignis laughed, and rested his free hand on one of the daggers at his belt. “And what should we do if we’re attacked by beasts?”
The girl hummed, but the mother from the less-prepared family stood up and came forward before she could think of another idea. “I’ll carry one,” she offered, seeming somewhat less than pleased with the need to do so.
“Then we’re ready,” Ignis said, casting as charming a smile as he could manage at his two helpers and the families they were leaving behind. They turned and made their way carefully down off the rock, and traipsed back out into the wilderness. Ignis predicted they would have about an hour before it became too dark to easily return.
They weren’t very far out before the girl said to Ignis, “Sorry my mom wouldn’t come. She didn’t want anyone to steal our stuff.” After a pause, she turned to their other companion with what Ignis assumed would be mild shame (he was leading the way, and they were trudging along behind him), and said, “Oh. Not that you guys would have taken it.”
The woman sniffed, but she said, “No, that’s smart. Your mom is just looking out for your family.” She followed after them for another few moments before saying, “If you don’t mind my asking, what are your names?”
They waited for Ignis to reply first, and he stopped and turned around so he could at least give them a cordial nod as he did. “Ignis,” he told them. “And my son is Noct.” On one hand, he didn’t think he should be easily handing out their names like that, but on the other hand, it would have made him suspicious if he hadn’t, and they’d already decided that as long as they avoided high-profile surnames, there should be little trouble.
“Alyssa,” the girl said with some cheer.
“Melanie,” the woman said. “Are you both from the city?”
They continued walking as they chatted, the conversation falling somewhere between casual and forced, but becoming more natural as they went. None of them had anything particularly unique to say, but they bonded over their shared experience of being mostly city-dwellers who were suddenly forced to leave.
“I don’t think I’ve ever walked this much,” Melanie said, not to complain, just to point out the sheer contrast of these last few days to her normal life. “I’ve never slept without a roof over my head.”
“My family likes camping, so I’ve probably slept under the stars like, maybe, twenty times,” Alyssa told them. “We usually drive where we’re going though.”
They both regarded Ignis. “Do you camp often?” Melanie asked, sounding as if she was trying to be polite by including him in the conversation, but also delicate by not delving too deep into personal matters. “Your… partner, he seemed confident about hunting.”
“Mm. It’s a hobby of his,” Ignis said. “He camps somewhat regularly. I hadn’t left the city for years, myself. I was always busy, working, taking care of Noct.” The ladies hummed in response, apparently believing him. He imagined it wasn’t difficult to believe; that was the most typical story for city-dwellers, as well as being completely true in his case.
Nothing of much importance was said for the rest of the journey, but Alyssa did take a few stops to poke around in the brush.
“I’m foraging,” she said proudly, when they followed after her and watched in questioning silence. ”I don’t really know Leide plants really well, but they’re kinda the same from one place to another.”
“What do you expect to find?” Ignis asked, genuinely curious.
“Hmm, like, herbs and root vegetables and stuff mostly.” Alyssa brushed some weeds aside, and then grabbed a handful of leaves from a plant underneath. She showed it to Ignis. “This is like a type of thyme! I think. I’ll ask my mom when we get back.”
She stopped a few more times both on the way to the stream and back (taking a few minutes at the stream as well, where she thought more Duscaen-like plants could be found), stuffing the plants into her pockets. Ignis didn’t know if anything she’d picked was actually edible, but he was ready to be impressed if even one of them was. He’d expected they’d be having roasted meat with hot water, but Alyssa was quite confident that they could manage soup, as long as what she thought were parsnips were at least some kind of edible root.
With Alyssa’s cheerful helpfulness and Melanie’s awkward attempts to create smalltalk, the three of them were almost what one could call friends by the time they returned, for a very modern refugee definition of the word. Some amount of comfort had settled over Ignis, despite Gladio’s absence. He thought it might have something to do with his companions being women; he might not have believed in immutable gender differences, but he couldn’t deny that there was a difference in the way women handled adversity than the way men did. In his experiences, at least, women took their support roles very seriously, instead of vying for positions of power like he often saw men do. They were simply different ways to solve problems, but he found their style of dedication admirable, and appreciated that they somehow managed to be friendly and personal all the while.
It was possible, he thought, that their friendliness was because he had a baby on his arm. Small children were apparently very disarming, and inspired a certain amount of trust. Where alone he might have been a threat, as a parent he was trustworthy. It was not a fact he’d ever intended to abuse, but he knew he would end up taking advantage of it anyway.
Back upon the haven stone, the mother and father who’d stayed behind hadn’t struck up quite the accord Ignis had with their family members, though the families’ two elementary aged sons had decided to stop being strangers and were playing catch with a rock. Alyssa’s mother had gotten a fire going, so Ignis and his two helpers set the cooking pot up over it.
“Mom, hey, look at all the stuff I found!” Alyssa said, pulling sprigs of leaves and dirty roots out of her pockets.
According to her mother, more than half of what she’d found was edible, if not what she’d originally thought they were. (The ‘thyme’ was rosemary; the Leiden varieties were practically identical.) Furthermore, she professed not to be so well-versed in native plantlife that she could say for certain that the other things weren’t edible, just that she wasn’t sure. To that end, they threw the edible plants in the soup pot, Alyssa pointing out to Ignis (as well as Melanie) how much more fragrant each addition made the meal, how the couple of dusty potatoes she’d found gave the broth a creamy texture. Melanie showed a surprising interest, and Ignis paid close attention. He was always interested in learning something new, and given the situation they found themselves in, he thought he ought to know how to make a soup that wasn’t so bland they’d rather just have water.
When the last vestiges of light were about to disappear, aside from the campfire and the glow of runes etched into the haven, Gladio returned, with Alyssa’s father at his side, both bearing large chunks of meat, mostly unattached from the rest of the animal.
“Hey, babe,” Gladio called to Ignis in greeting, acting so casual that nobody would have guessed it was perhaps the third time he’d called him that. He slapped a huge piece of meat down near the fire. “I told you I’d snag a dualhorn.”
The flesh was wrapped in the dualhorn’s tough skin, protecting the meat from the dust of the desert, and the haven stone from bloodstains. Gladio sat down heavily next to Ignis a few feet from the fire, while Alyssa’s father set down his slightly smaller chunk, which was still large enough to feed his family for days.
“Figured it’d be better to butcher it away from the women and kids,” he confided quietly. “And it was a little heavy to haul back.”
“Though I don’t doubt you tried.” Ignis laughed.
With a shrug, Gladio admitted, “Got about ten feet.”
They soon set up an assembly line of blade-wielding chefs to cut the meat into smaller and smaller pieces, throwing them into the stew or skewering them on sticks at the end, and within the hour there was food enough for everyone. The problem was that only Alyssa’s family had much dishware, a set of four bowls and forks, but between them and the one cup Gladio had stuffed in his backpack, they managed to get everyone fed and hydrated. (Noctis was able to drink some broth from his bottle once the liquid cooled down enough not to scald. He very reluctantly chewed on a few pieces of vegetable, and made a much more spirited attempt at a piece of sinewy steak.)
“This soup’s great,” Gladio said after a long slurp. “What’d you guys do to it?”
“Young miss Alyssa found some herbs and vegetables to season it,” Ignis explained, gesturing to the girl, who preened shyly. Ignis noticed that Gladio often had that effect on girls, and what could be better than being praised for your culinary prowess by an attractive young man.
“It’s better than cup noodles,” Gladio told her. “And I don’t say that lightly!”
“Now if only we had some tea to go with it, it could be a proper meal,” Ignis joked. He almost snorted at himself for implying that ramen could ever be real food.
Alyssa’s interest turned from Gladio to him, her eyes shining. “I know some herbs you can use for teas! I didn’t see any, but…”
“Perhaps tomorrow,” Ignis suggested, which kept the girl’s spirits high in anticipation.
“Will we be going the same direction?” Alyssa’s father (apparently known as Clarence) asked. He was still holding on to the shortsword, Ignis noticed, and he wondered if Gladio had given it to him, or if he was just keeping it for safety while they were in a party. The haven was supposedly safe from daemons, but that was no guarantee that other creatures would stay away, nor the soldiers everyone feared.
“We’re heading north, to the hunter’s camp,” Gladio told them, not careful with the information, since they’d already established him to be a hunter.
Clarence nodded. “We’re heading to Duscae, maybe Lestallum. We’re hoping to take the highway up north.”
Gladio grinned. “Sounds like we’ll be traveling companions for another day.” He and the others then looked to the other family in question.
“Galdin Quay, I think,” Melanie said.
The rest of the soup was set to simmer over the low fire as everyone readied themselves to try to sleep. The rock they sat on was as safe as one could hope for, but far from comfortable, and Melanie’s young son wasn’t too keen on staying there all night. Grumbling, he asked, “Why can’t we sleep in those buildings over there?”
The old grain silo and its outbuildings were tantalizingly close, but their windows were pitch black, and just one flickering overhead light cast shadows intermittently. In the twilight it hadn’t been as obvious, but it was clearly a ghost town now.
There was some glancing about among the adults who, for the most part, didn’t entirely understand why the haven was safe and the man-made buildings were not.
Gladio had the simple answer. “It’s too dark. Daemons will getcha.”
The boy frowned, like it couldn’t possibly be that simple. “Then we’ll just light a lantern.”
Shaking his head, Gladio said, “That’s not enough. It’s gotta be a lotta light, like in the city.”
“But it’s dark in my room at night,” the boy countered. “Why don’t daemons show up there?” The other adults watched the exchange curiously, and Ignis realized that really almost nobody understood what daemons were or why they worked the way they did.
Even Gladio had apparently never had to explain it to anyone. He thought about it for a moment. “If it’s surrounded by bright lights, then the daemons have nowhere to run. Think of it like… light is water, and darkness is islands, and daemons can’t swim through the light.”
The boy looked out at the flickering light by the silo, guttering out like a flame every few seconds and leaving the place bathed in darkness only accentuated by faint moonlight. He huffed and laid his head on his arms, and that was the last of that argument.
As promised, the camping family allowed them to have their tent for the night, and they weren’t even very upset about it. Everyone wanted little Noctis to be as comfortable as possible, even though they didn’t know he was anyone special. He was a baby, and that was special enough. To help a little more, they gave Ignis one of their sleeping bags to lay out flat beneath them. Feeling equitable, apparently, they also spared one for Melanie’s family, who took the charity with a look of grudging thanks.
It wasn’t the best night of sleep any of them had ever gotten, but the night was mild and the mountain behind them broke the worst of the wind. Ignis and Gladio were still very grateful for the insulation of the tent, knowing that Noct would have slept even less well without it. The ground was hard and he’d had to go without milk again, so the fact that he cried only a few times during the night was something of a blessing.
In the morning, the lot of them shared what was left of their still-warm soup while the tent was packed up. Melanie and her family looked uncomfortable, their safety now disrupted as they had to part ways with the two families who knew what they were doing, relatively. They waited around on the edge of the haven, as if hoping someone would tell them what to do.
Gladio took some small pity on them. “You guys should get going,” he told them. “If you don’t dawdle too much, you can get to Longwythe before sundown. After that, it’s another day or two to Galdin.”
They looked at him as if he might be sentencing them to death, and Ignis knew Gladio was thinking the same thing. Was it the right move? As an authority figure, should he have told them to come along with the rest of the group? Ignis thought they would have listened. But they did finally thank him and head off into the dust in the direction Gladio had indicated. It was possible that they would fall prey to any of the desert’s various dangers, and Ignis just hoped that Gladio didn’t worry about them too much. They couldn’t afford to worry about every refugee that crossed their path.
The family of campers looked happy, at least as much as possible. They looked over their map while Gladio looked over his, and they agreed again that the hunter’s camp was the next stop. Clarence looked more resolute than he had the day before; Ignis smiled privately, always pleased to see Gladio’s guidance have that effect on people.
Alyssa was resolute as well, excited to find those tea herbs she’d promised to Ignis. Her little brother was insistent about helping, so Alyssa told him to keep his eyes peeled for blue flowers, a task that was both easy enough for a child, and difficult enough in the desert to keep him occupied while she hunted for the more well-camouflaged plants.
Noting her daughter’s interest in teaching Ignis, the family’s mother offered to take Noctis for a while so that Ignis could follow Alyssa as she zigzagged her way along their path, and Ignis was almost surprised by how little painful anxiety struck him at the idea of letting someone else touch Noct. It had barely been a day since they’d left him in Longwythe for nearly an hour, but the success of that venture had apparently changed something in him. Although it wasn’t an emergency, Ignis agreed to let her carry the sleepy toddler and his moogle plushie for a while.
He could see Gladio glance at him curiously, but he walked on without any more comment than that, apparently trusting that if Ignis was comfortable with it, then he would be too. It wasn’t as if Ignis relished the chance to be rid of Noct, but he was willing to bet that it was going to be okay. They were in the middle of nowhere, no place for her to abscond with him to, and the fact that she’d raised two healthy kids spoke to her ability to handle one more for an hour. She even looked happier for it, and Noct stopped fussing as soon as he changed hands as well. The change of pace was good for everyone.
Ignis didn’t stray far, anyway, keeping usually within sight distance, and always within crying distance.
Alyssa had confidently identified and taught Ignis about three local plants by the time the dirt road they followed intersected with the paved highway, at which point Ignis retrieved Noctis, ready to be on high alert. Gladio was of the same mind. He stopped the procession before they were upon the pavement.
“I’d rather not travel on the road,” he told Clarence, who had seemingly been planning to divert them to the smoother path. “I’ve been seeing Nifs drive by, and I don’t wanna tangle with any soldiers.”
The family’s son was the one who spoke up. “But they’re not really bothering anyone, right?”
The adults shared a look. It was true that none of them had seen the soldiers attacking civilians just yet, but that didn’t mean it was a risk anyone wanted to take. The boy’s mother told her son, “We don’t really know what they want.”
Alyssa piped in then. “Yeah, and they were attacking people in the city! Duh, that’s why we left. You remember the explosions, don’t you?”
Ignis had been preoccupied at the time, trying to escape the nightmare with his and Noct’s heads still attached, but he recalled that the Niflheim soldiers had mostly ignored civilians. There had been fighting throughout the city, bloodier than any of the citizens had likely ever seen, but it had been between the Nifs and the Kingsglaive, primarily. He didn’t bring it up; it served his purposes better to paint the enemy as attacking indiscriminately, a real danger to anyone who crossed their path.
Ultimately, everyone agreed that it was best to keep on the dirt roads, so they crossed the street quickly and continued on the dusty path on the other side.
“This is better anyway,” Alyssa said as they jogged over the asphalt. “Not a lot of plants grow by the road, and they’d probably taste like tires if they did.”
They had picked up quite a lot of foraging by the time they saw the outpost in the distance. It was nearing dark, so they hurried on, eschewing further hunting since they still had meat from the night before. The part of Ignis who still thought they were living in the city with easy access to refrigeration recoiled at the idea of eating meat they’d hunted twenty-four hours previous, but Gladio assured him it ‘wouldn’t kill them’, when he asked about the safety of it, and he had to accept that. He could either eat day-old roast with a side of Leiden peppers, or ask Noct’s shield to go out in the deepening dusk and hunt something fresh to soothe his delicate palette. He opted for the leftovers.
Chapter 5
Notes:
I wasn't supposed to post this until the weekend, but I've been on a roll with writing lately (I'm on chapter 15!) so I guess I just got too excited to wait. Apologies that it's not a particularly exciting chapter, though; it was originally part of the previous chapter, before I split it for being too long.
Chapter Text
The hunter’s camp was, unsurprisingly, full of refugees. As the group filtered into the crowded camp and then split into their two families, Ignis looked around at those gathered around campfires or under awnings. There was something different about them, compared to those he’d seen at Hammerhead. Aside from the fact that these people had had several days to acclimate to the situation, they also seemed a little bit less adrift. Whereas every kind of person had ended up at the Hammerhead, having arrived there mostly by happenstance, all the refugees in the hunter’s camp were there on purpose. Nobody was likely to have wandered here accidentally, and as he listened to their quiet chatter, Ignis surmised that most of them were headed for Duscae.
After getting a quick lay of the land, the three of them sat down for dinner at one of the many campfires. Someone had set a large, fine grate over the fire, and people added food to it at their leisure, trading with others as they brought new ingredients. (Ignis didn’t mention that the dualhorn was day-old when he traded some of it; he didn’t ask how old the daggerquill was either.)
The atmosphere in the camp was almost jovial, and Ignis didn’t mind when Gladio disappeared halfway through his attempt to spoon-feed Noctis some soup, with just a muttered, “Gonna look for Dave. Back in a bit.” He sat there with Noctis in his lap and listened to the chatter.
Gladio returned just as Ignis succeeded in getting Noct to chew on a carrot. (He wasn’t eating it, and there was a clear look of disgust on his face, but it soothed his teething fussiness.)
“No luck,” Gladio told him, sitting heavily in the dirt next to him. “He’s not around, and nobody I talked to knows where he is. I’ll check again in the morning.”
Apparently tired of Ignis’ attempt to get him to eat vegetables, Noctis perked up and reached for Gladio, babbling “dah-da!” and throwing his carrot to the ground with a bright smile.
A soft, heart-melting smile came over Gladio’s face as he lifted Noct from Ignis’ lap. “Aww, are you trying to make me feel better, buddy?”
“Did he just call you dada?” Ignis asked, struggling to figure out how he felt about that.
Gladio shrugged. “He probably doesn’t know what it means. Or he’s trying to say ‘Gladdy’. That’s what Iris called me when she was real little.”
At the mention of his family, Ignis wanted to reassure Gladio that they’d find her, but he was too honest for such platitudes. Instead he said, “I wonder what he’ll call me?” Though they’d spent time with Noctis regularly, it had only really amounted to babysitting, and in the relatively scant few hours they’d spent together, he had never babbled anything very coherent at them.
“Let’s find out,” Gladio said, lifting Noct and turning him around to face Ignis. “Noct. Who’s that?”
Noctis frowned and tried to turn back around, not finished with his Gladdy cuddles, but Ignis reached out and lightly squeezed his little hand. “Noct?” he called, in the faintest sing-song. “Who am I?”
It took him a moment of apparently deep consideration, but he finally reached out for Ignis and mumbled, “Gih-gih.”
It wasn’t coherent, but it brought Ignis considerable joy anyway.
“Aww,” Gladio said. “I was kinda hoping he’d call you mama, but ‘Giggy’ is cute.”
Once the three of them were sufficiently fed, they disengaged from the campfire and wandered around until they found a space to settle into for the night, in a partly-enclosed building that was probably once a barn but now seemed to be used by the hunters for storage. Gladio had to shove a few huge spiral horns out of the way, and shuffle coils of rope into a neater pile to give them room.
Though it paled in comparison to the warmth and safety of a home Ignis doubted he’d ever know again, the camp was nice. There was a sense of camaraderie among the hunters, and between them and the more determined refugees. They seemed willing to help anyone who wanted to help themselves rather than sit around and moan about their fates. Ignis could see why Gladio got along with these people so well, despite not apparently being particularly close to any of them.
It made him wonder just how close he was with the hunters, and if that would pose a problem for them. As they enclosed Noct in the usual cage of their bodies, Ignis murmured in Gladio’s ear, “Are any of these hunters going to see through our story?”
“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Gladio replied, keeping his voice low but not as soft as a whisper. “A few of ‘em knew I worked for the crown, but not much else. They respect people’s privacy. That’s something I like about them.”
Ignis could only take Gladio’s word for it, but considering how often he found himself doing that lately, it wasn’t too difficult.
Partway through the night, Ignis woke, unsure what had roused him. Unusually, Noctis had woken up and instead of simply fussing or crying was actively trying to crawl away from them. He was partly trapped under Gladio’s leg so he hadn’t yet succeeded in escaping, but his struggling woke Gladio, just as Ignis noticed Noct’s glowing eyes and carefully pried him out from under him. The little prince began to cry in frustration as he realized he was being restrained, which gave Ignis the perfect excuse to pull the loose edge of his overshirt around Noct’s body and quickly whisk him out of the crowded room. Gladio followed at his heels as they stepped around sleeping bodies, eschewing apologies for the sake of removing Noct more quickly.
At the back of the camp was a little well-lit area free from sleepers or onlookers, just hidden enough from everyone else that Ignis dared pull the shirt back from over Noct’s mussy head. His eyes were still glowing that distinctive magenta color he’d first seen just moments before bombs shook the capital. It put Ignis on edge; he realized he was breathing harder than was warranted for such a quiet, still night.
Gladio stood with his back to the camp, shielding them from any curious eyes as Noct continued to fuss. He glanced down at the glow and then up at Ignis, his expression much less panicked than Ignis felt.
“He must’ve seen something again,” he said, reaching out and smoothing Noctis’ hair to try to calm him down.
“Another ill portent?” Ignis asked, trying to calm himself. If something catastrophic was about to happen, being stressed about it likely wouldn’t help.
Gladio observed Noctis for a moment, watching as he flailed his little arms in the direction of the darkness. “I dunno,” he admitted. “But whatever he wants, it’s out there.” He nodded out behind the camp, where very little could be seen.
Ignis followed his gaze. It seemed silent out there. He couldn’t hear any engines humming or soldiers marching. The daemons he knew were lurking in the shadows were quiet. Only Noct was making any noise on this side of the camp, and the high whine emanating from under the rosy glow of his eyes was not helping Ignis believe in the tenuous safety they were waiting in.
As if he could sense Ignis’ tension (or perhaps see it in his eyes), Gladio softly scooped Noct out of his arms. It didn’t stop his crying, but it gave Ignis the very slightest reprieve. “Hey Noct,” he said calmly to the wailing child. “We can’t go out there, so you’re gonna have to calm down and wait until sunrise, alright? It’s gonna be okay, buddy.”
It was several long minutes before Noctis did anything remotely close to calming down, but finally his cries faded to irritated little whimpers. It was still too much for them to go back into the crowded room and try to sleep, so they took turns walking him around the back of the camp, wiling away the last few hours before the sun peeked up over the horizon.
Half an hour into their vigil, Ignis sighed and looked over at Gladio, who was leaning against a rusting wall, keeping watch. “Gladio, you ought to go back to sleep. We don’t all have to be tired today.”
“Nah, it’s fine,” Gladio said. Ignis wondered if Gladio was as nervous as he was, but he didn’t ask. And though he didn’t go back to sleep, Gladio did go back to their makeshift bed and pack all of their camping gear up. He spent half an hour sorting and cleaning their supplies, and when the rest of the camp began to stir, he disappeared briefly to secure them some breakfast.
In the meantime, Noctis finally fell asleep on Ignis’ shoulder, and Ignis prayed silently to no god in particular that that would be the end of his… little tantrum.
They had no such luck, of course. Shortly after the sun was just high enough to ward off daemons, Noctis woke again, and continued reaching out to the northeast, like a slightly broken compass.
“Well, no reason not to,” Gladio said with a shrug. Hesitantly, Ignis followed as Gladio strolled out of the camp.
“Do you know what’s back here?” he asked. He didn’t remember seeing anything on the map, and all he could see ahead of them was a path carved between two rocky hills.
“Some old battlefield,” Gladio told him. “I glanced around it once, but it’s a dead end, so there’s not a lot of hunting. Shouldn’t be too dangerous.”
Ignis wasn’t exactly keen to go exploring, and a dead-end old battlefield seemed like one of the worst places for it, but Noct would not be ignored. On top of that, there was a good chance that something supernatural was afoot, and it would be better to know about it, rather than be unpleasantly surprised when it turned out to be relevant and dangerous later.
The few people who were clustered around the back of the camp gave them strange looks as they exited the camp in the wrong direction, but nobody stopped them. Ignis gathered that nobody could spare the energy to really care what others were doing, nor to protest when someone as apparently capable as Gladio took the unbeaten path. Taking their meager belongings with them, they followed Noct’s pointing out into the long shadows cast by the mountains around them. Moving in that direction did finally stop his crying; now he was making excited little grunts, like whatever he was grasping for was almost within reach.
Assuming the battlefield was their destination, Gladio stuck to the main path, which veered slightly right and into a more open area, but as soon as Ignis followed in his footsteps, Noct shrieked in toddlerish irritation, reaching over Ignis’ shoulder instead.
“Seems our spirit has taken a u-turn,” he called to Gladio, ten steps ahead.
Gladio returned to their side and followed Noct’s gaze to a little side path that went left up a hill. “Alright,” he said, and took the vanguard position again.
A few minutes into their climb, a few bird-beasts became agitated by their presence and proceeded to dive-bomb them. They seemed to be mostly warning swoops, pulling up some inches before making contact with their heads, but Ignis retreated from the irritated creatures, unwilling to trust their talons anywhere near the prince’s downy head. He watched Gladio swat at them for a few minutes before annoyance started to really set in. A great hunter, Gladio certainly was; a crackshot with his longsword, he absolutely was not, and these birds were unwilling to sit still long enough for him to get in a good swing.
Noctis was still fussing, and Ignis wanted to do almost anything other than stand there all day, so after Gladio swung and missed ten times in a row, he pulled out one of his daggers, aimed, and let fly at their last annoying adversary. The bird gave a satisfying squawk as the knife pierced it, and it finally fell to the ground with the others. Ignis hoped he didn’t look smug, but he certainly felt proud of himself for dealing with the menace, and without putting Noct at too much risk, he thought.
“Huh, nice shot,” Gladio said appreciatively, picking up the bird and the dagger along with it. He wiped the weapon off on the bird’s feather coat and handed it back to Ignis, then took a few minutes to gather the rest of the birds and string them together for ease of carrying. “And hey, these’ll make for a decent dinner, too,” he said, swinging the rope over the shoulder his backpack wasn’t on.
Their destination was not much further on. Just at the top of the hill, not a twenty minute walk from camp had they not been waylaid by beasts, sat a structure they did not immediately recognize. It was a small stone or concrete building, smooth, untouched by the ages. Upon closer inspection, they found the Lucian coat of arms carved into the stone door.
“Not a repository, with this kind of ornamentation,” Ignis guessed. It was such a plain building, and in such a strange place, he’d first thought it might be a weapons storehouse. “Not a treasury, this far from any major cities. …A tomb?”
Gladio glanced at Noct, whose eyes had flared up pink again. He was reaching for the building, insistent but not desperate. “Well, Noct seems to think it’s important,” Gladio said, “so if there’s anything inside, you can bet it’s not supply crates.”
He approached the stone door and gently pressed on it. When that did nothing, he gave it a great shove. Neither of them were surprised that it didn’t budge. Noct, though, was very upset that they were just standing outside and not going in– presumably, since he continued to reach towards the building, his irritation growing.
“Without a key, I don’t see us getting inside,” Ignis lamented.
Frowning apologetically at Noctis, Gladio said, “Yeah, and I’m not about to bash the stone door down with my sword, even if I could.” He ruffled Noct’s hair, for all the good it did.
“I’m sorry, Noct,” Ignis said softly, bouncing and patting him, trying to soothe his apparent anger at not getting to see what was inside. Bothered, Ignis looked to Gladio, hoping he had any suggestions. “We can’t very well just stay here until the door decides to open itself to us. But what if Noct refuses to settle down otherwise?”
With a helpless shrug, Gladio said, “Then we do like any toddler parents and just deal with it.”
That sounded unappealing and illogical to Ignis, but admittedly he couldn’t think of any better plan. Still, there was one very dangerous issue. “But what of his eyes?”
“Yeah… I dunno,” Gladio admitted. “Sunglasses? Be kinda weird on a baby.” He looked at Noct and sighed. “Well, he’s gotta calm down eventually.”
Ignis wasn’t sure about that; the royal family was somewhat known for their opportunistic hard-headedness, and Noctis was just old enough to be discovering the ability to be stubborn. But ultimately Gladio was right. Minutes later, Noct was already calming down, just whining and sniffling instead of yelling and crying. Ignis went around Gladio to the backpack and pulled out the stuffed moogle Cindy had given them. Cuddling it seemed to make Noct feel a little better.
“Why do you think he wanted to come here in the first place?” Ignis mused.
“Led by some spirit,” Gladio said with a shrug. “It’s gotta be.”
He was mostly past being skeptical these days, so he just nodded in acceptance. “And why did the spirit want us to come here?”
“I don’t know what spirits want,” Gladio told him. “Never seen one myself. But if they exist, they’re probably as riled up as everyone else is right now.”
Ignis hummed and looked back at the stone building. “I suppose it will have to remain a mystery.”
Gladio laughed wryly. “One more for the pile.”
It was disappointing not to understand what was going on, what they’d spent their morning chasing after, but at least Noctis had finally calmed down, so they headed back to the campsite to return to their scheduled plan, and tried to put the mystery from their minds. It was easier said than done for Ignis, but if he turned his focus to Noct’s needs then at least the dissatisfaction could simmer on the back-burner.
Back at the hunters’ camp, Ignis followed Gladio as he went to check in with the hunters he hadn’t seen the day before. Most had no clue to Dave’s whereabouts, and told Gladio so with mild disinterest, but one did finally recall when she’d last seen him.
“About a week ago,” she told them. “He was heading to Duscae for a hunt.” She wished them luck and went back to her business, and Gladio huffed in disappointment.
“Ugh. He could be anywhere by now,” he said, shaking his head. He stared off into the distance for several long moments, out west towards Duscae. “But at least we know where to check next.”
Ignis tried not to grimace, but when he looked at Gladio he could tell it was showing on his face somewhat. “Are we sure this is what we should be doing?” he asked, feeling guilty for doubting Gladio. After all, it wasn’t as if he had any clue what they should do next. Without Gladio, Ignis knew he would flounder. Still, going after Dave was such a shot in the dark. “I simply mean, this feels a bit like a wild chocobo chase. Is this what’s best for Noct?”
Luckily, Gladio was not at all offended by Ignis’ doubts; he almost seemed to appreciate the counter-argument. “Maybe it’s not,” he admitted. “But… let’s just check one more area, alright? After that, we can try something different.”
Nodding, Ignis said, “It is in the right direction, at least.”
He just hoped that they would find some better clues in the next few days; if the next route were left up to him, he worried it would find them wandering aimlessly.
Gladio took out the map he’d borrowed from Dave’s hut and studied the route to Duscae, and Ignis could tell from his face that he wasn’t pleased with the options.
“Dave went for a hunt in Alstor Slough, in the northern part of Duscae, which is only a day and a half’s walk from here.” He stepped closer to Ignis to point it out on the map. “Problem is, it’s a straight shot down a highway. No campsites along the way. None on the map, at least. We could make it in less than a day if it were just us, but…”
He didn’t have to explain that bringing Noctis along would slow them down, or that they couldn’t risk getting caught somewhere unsafe during the night. He and Ignis both stared at the map for a moment, hoping it would unveil some kind of secret shortcut if they looked hard enough. It didn’t.
“If we go around, it’ll take us at least three days to get there,” Gladio continued, “but there are plenty of places to stop along the way.” He paused, and then offered, hesitantly, as if he knew Ignis wouldn’t like it, “We could try to catch one of these buses.”
There had indeed been buses and sometimes personal vehicles passing up and down the road, stuffed with weary travelers, and Ignis knew they could get wherever they might be going many times faster if they hitched a ride with one of them. But it made him nervous to put their safety in the hands of someone else, to trap them in a high-speed metal box they couldn’t escape from. He’d never feared cars before– and he didn’t fear the cars now. It was the lack of control. Even if they found a car of their own to drive, they would be stuck to the roads, without a way of escaping should there be an accident, a traffic stop, a blockade.
He shook his head, and Gladio nodded.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Gladio said. He didn’t ask Ignis to explain his rationale.
Accepting that they would take the long route was beneficial in at least one way: they knew they didn’t have to rush to make it to Duscae before sunset. They took the time to do some trading, pawning off the fresh bird-beasts from that morning, keeping just one for dinner. They agreed to head to the next haven for the night, but as there was still plenty of time left in the day, Gladio went out hunting, and Ignis went in search of the family they’d traveled with the previous day.
They were pleased to see him and Noct. “We’re catching a bus to Lestallum in the morning,” Clarence told him, as his wife took Noctis to play with for a few moments. “Are you three heading the same way?”
Ignis thought quickly for a way to explain that they were heading backwards, actually. To say that they didn’t want to be caught on the highway would sound just a bit too paranoid.
“No. Not yet, at least. Gladio has a… friend he’s looking for, and he seems to have gone back the way we came.”
Clarence nodded. He said, “Maybe we’ll see you after you find him,” and Ignis just responded with a generic sort of agreement.
Before he could leave the family to their day’s waiting, the pre-teen Alyssa bounced up to him. “Wait, are you going now?”
“Not for a few hours yet,” Ignis told her, leaving the ‘why?’ unspoken.
That was the answer she was looking for, based on the way her eyes lit up. “Do you wanna go foraging again? I think I can find some of those tea herbs I promised you.”
It was as good a plan as any, and better than most, so Ignis told her, “It would be my pleasure,” with a polite nod and a true smile.
She dashed back to her parents to confirm that it was alright with them. Although they agreed that it was okay, Ignis wondered what they really thought about their twelve year old daughter spending hours alone with a man they (hopefully) estimated to be twice her age, rather than only three years her senior. Regardless, he’d clearly gained their trust over the past day or so, and so the two of them (and Noctis) went out to wander the dusty plains just out of sight of the camp for a while.
Picking through the dry, hardy plants was a nice way to spend the afternoon, and they did in fact find the tea herbs they were looking for, along with several good handfuls of vegetables.
“I look forward to brewing these,” Ignis said as he brushed dust off the leaves and stems, hoping to spare the inside of his pockets any further accumulation of dirt. “Although admittedly I would prefer coffee. I don’t suppose you know if any grows around here?”
She could probably tell that he was mostly joking, but she was still apologetic when she said, “No… Sorry.”
The sun was on its way down by the time they spied Gladio returning in the distance. They walked to meet him and help haul some of the miscellaneous pieces he was carrying. “Hey,” he said to Alyssa, declining to give a friendly wave because his hands were as full as possible. “And hey to you two,” he said to Ignis and Noct, suffusing his voice with a warmth that Ignis thought was probably not necessary in front of just one girl who already believed their story.
“Hi,” Alyssa responded, not shyly but with a hint of infatuation. Quite understandably, her eyes moved from Gladio’s face down to the straining muscles of his arms, and lingered there for a few moments as Ignis took a few of Gladio’s burdens and tucked them into the arm not holding Noct.
“I see you’ve been busy,” Ignis said.
“You too,” Gladio replied. He seemed a little surprised to find them out there away from the camp. “Find anything good?”
“Vegetables, and some tea,” Ignis told him, slightly exaggerating his pride.
Gladio responded with his own exaggerated ‘oh-ho’ of intrigue.
“No coffee, though,” Alyssa added.
With a genuine laugh, Gladio said, “That’s too bad. Ignis is a real ebony fiend.”
A startled chuckle bubbled out of Ignis’ throat. He hadn’t realized Gladio knew that about him. It was true, he’d developed a coffee habit probably much too early, and his usual routine back at the palace had started every morning with either a fresh cup or a chilled can, but he didn’t think he was such an addict that Gladio would have known. Perhaps he was just joking.
He played into it, anyway. “It’s true,” he said. “I’m surprised I’ve managed to get out of bed this past week. Soon I may simply break down.”
Alyssa took their joking in stride, but as they walked back to camp Ignis saw her looking between the two of them curiously. He could only guess what was going through her mind, but he didn’t spend much time wondering.
They parted ways with the girl when they returned, promising to meet her again someday, if they happened to end up in the same place again, and then they went to sell some of the loot that was weighing Gladio’s pack down so heavily.
“It’s a good problem to have,” he said of his over-stuffed pack and the armfulls of larger beast parts, but it wasn’t such a good problem that he wanted to keep having it, so they traded most of the skins, horns, talons and such for some battered but serviceable cookware and two sleeping bags.
After that, there was nothing left to do but leave. They didn’t say goodbye to anyone; with the situation as it was, people came and went as they needed, and rarely did anybody bother informing others that they were going to do so.
The hike to the nearest haven was fairly short. It sat almost within sight of the hunter’s camp; from it, they could see the ambient light after nightfall. But on the disc-shaped rock they were alone, which came as a relief to both of them, despite the safety of numbers. Numbers were only safer than solitude when one didn’t have a dangerous secret to hide, and they were both still worried that Noctis might have another… episode, and there would be little or nothing they could do to keep his eyes from the curious gazes of the other refugees. It wasn’t something they could hide from forever, they knew, but so close on the heels of only the second time they’d seen Noctis’ apparent spirit-vision, it was nice not to have to worry.
They settled down for a quiet night, with a few more amenities than they’d had before, and cooked up a leisurely dinner of bird-beast and peppers, with some mint tea to wash it down.
“It’s back to Longwythe tomorrow, eh?” Ignis asked as they settled into their sleeping bags, Noct nestled into his and kicking him in the abdomen as he got comfortable.
“Soon as dawn breaks,” Gladio confirmed.
“It feels wrong to be making what seems like the opposite of progress,” Ignis said, “but as long as Noct is safe and anonymous, I suppose it doesn’t really matter where we are or what direction we take.”
Gladio closed his eyes. “True,” he said simply. “Sleep tight, you two.”
“I’m sure we will,” Ignis said with a short laugh, squished up against the squirmy baby. “And you as well.”
It took some time for him to fall asleep, his mind still racing in spiraling circles, thinking about their route, and what would happen to Noct whenever they got wherever they were going. But he kept reminding himself what he’d said to Gladio: as long as Noct was safe and sound, nothing much else mattered. All further progress was a bonus, and anyway, it wasn’t as if they had some kind of time limit. In fact, they would have all the time in the world to make sure Noct was safe.
Too much time, possibly.
Chapter Text
The night was unremarkable. The journey back to Longwythe was unremarkable too, and somewhat faster than it had been when heading out from the town, owing to their familiarity with the landscape. They passed a few groups heading in the opposite direction, and while most of them kept their distance and simply gazed curiously at them, a man from one group went out of his way to meet them.
“Hey, I just have to ask, is there something wrong up north?”
“Nah, it’s safe enough at the hunter’s camp,” Gladio told him. “We’ve just got business back this way.”
The man accepted this easily enough and rejoined his group, and Ignis felt a twinge of guilt. Should they have checked with this man, and the others they passed, to see if they had everything they needed or there was anything they could do to assist them? It was a dangerous instinct, and he knew he ought to quash it. He simply could not take care of everyone; even if they didn’t have Noct to worry about, there were far too many refugees for two baby Crownsguard to be of any help, in the grand scheme of things. Inevitably, some would suffer. Some of them might die. Ignis had no way of knowing who would meet such misfortunes, and he couldn’t spend his energy worrying about it.
Every time he found himself concerned about the citizenry, he turned his attention to Noct. Was Noct okay? Was he safe, was he healthy? Was he as happy as he could possibly be, given the situation?
When they arrived back at Longwythe, it was nearly dark, but to have made the two-day trip in one day was impressive enough that it lifted Ignis’ spirits. Better yet, there was a spot open to sit and eat at the bar. Balancing Noctis on his knee while feeding him fries was not yet second-nature, but it was still nicer than sitting on solid stone like they had recently.
“Any more dangerous beasts you need taken care of?” Gladio asked the chef as he served up a second helping of fries.
“There’s always something,” the man said, but he shook his head. “Nothing too dangerous, though. Nothing bad enough you’d need to leave your baby behind.” He went back to cooking and tidying behind the counter, but before they were finished with their meal, he returned to them with a key in his hand. “I assume you’re staying the night. Might as well take the shack again.”
Despite having done nothing to really earn it this time, they accepted the lease and enjoyed having a bed to sleep in again. It was a little strange to Ignis, as if sleeping in the same place twice made the little shack almost like home. It made him homesick– not for his home, back in the capital, but for the idea of home, for any place they might call home.
They headed out early in the morning again, although they took breakfast at the diner first. It was a real treat to be able to eat a table once more. Over bowls of oatmeal (the diner had run out of eggs in the past several days), they discussed which direction they would head.
“Galdin Quay is just down that way,” Gladio said, gesturing with his spoon. “If we wanted to catch a boat, that’d be the place. And it’d be a nice place to stop for a night too.”
“Does it make sense to go there?” Ignis asked, noticing that Gladio wasn’t exactly committing to it.
“Not really,” Gladio admitted. “We can get to Duscae from there, but it’s a little out of the way. The real issue, though? The road to Duscae from there is a tunnel.” He laid the map on the table, just out of Noct’s grabby reach, and pointed. “See? Blue. That means no way in or out. That’s almost as bad as taking a bus. Maybe worse. ‘Cuz if I was a military general, looking for the enemy, that’s for sure one place I’d set up a trap.”
“I’ve heard Galdin is nice,” Ignis said, frowning. “Perhaps one day.”
That decided, they headed west into Duscae, towards a haven marked on the map. At that point, they were beginning to rely on the map more than on Gladio’s experience, his travels having mostly kept him in Leide. He’d been out to Duscae a few times, he said, but not nearly often or recent enough to remember the roads or pit stops. But the map had belonged to Dave, and Gladio trusted that it was well-marked.
The first leg of the path made Ignis nervous; it was a main road, sandwiched between two great mountains, and there was nowhere they could escape to, should danger come for them. But it was still much more open than a tunnel, and was at least lined with bushes if it really came down to a desperate attempt at hiding. The land opened up within the hour’s walk anyway, to Ignis’ relief.
Once it was possible, they kept off the road, within sight but not likely to be more than glimpsed by any vehicles passing at speed, with the lusher Duscaen greenery somewhat obscuring them.
Towards noon, as they considered stopping for lunch, they came across a little pond, nestled just in the edge of the treeline.
“Shame Dave’s shack didn’t have any fishing gear,” Gladio said, looking longingly at the pond and its little dock. “I’m not great at it, but I probably coulda caught something.”
Ignis was obviously unable to see from the distance, but he casually suggested, “Perhaps someone has left some gear behind.” He was getting hungry, and fresh fish did sound nice.
Gladio seemed skeptical that what they needed would just conveniently manifest itself, but he said, “Well, it’d be a nice spot for a picnic anyway.”
They meandered over to the pond and Ignis sat down in the grass with Noctis, who seemed glad for the change of pace. As soon as he was set down in it, Noct was enamored with the green grass, something he hadn’t seen at all in their week of traipsing through dry, Leiden desert. He occupied himself trying to pick blades of grass and stringy weeds while Ignis set up a mini camp. Gladio, meanwhile, was searching around the dock and then circling the pond. It was something Ignis had seen him do: just look around their surroundings for whatever might be useful. He often found items nobody else would have likely noticed, and in this case that amounted to exactly what they’d hoped. He returned with a length of fishing line, a rusty hook already attached to it, and sat down in the grass across from them to tie it onto a small piece of branch.
“Good idea, Iggy,” he said, once it was sufficiently fastened. “Now let’s put it to the test.”
He went to the end of the dock and tossed the line in, with a flick that implied he had some experience. Even Ignis knew this was a waiting game, so he didn’t pay much mind after the initial flourish. He set up their pot to boil some pond water for drinking, and then when Gladio still hadn’t caught anything, he picked up Noctis and took him for their own tour of the pond.
Unexpectedly, they happened upon some plants that looked familiar, and something Alyssa had said came to mind: that once you knew what you were looking for, you could often find things without trying.
Sitting in the damp soil and sparse grass and plopping Noctis down in his lap, Ignis started digging, and soon came up with a familiar chunk of ginger-like root. “Well well well,” he said, neither exactly to himself nor to Noctis.
“Wah wah,” Noctis replied.
They took a few nice, girthy roots back to the campsite, keeping an eye out for other interesting plants on the way back. Unfortunately, he had little more than an inkling that any of the plants he saw growing abundantly near the shore and a little further back were edible, and without being fairly certain he couldn’t risk it, so he ignored them. It was a shame, though; that close to the water, there were quite a lot of verdant, flowering plants around, thriving in their little pond biome.
He was slicing strips of the bright orange turmeric root into their pot of boiling water when Gladio made his first catch. Ignis looked up and watched hopefully as Gladio tugged at the creature and yanked it out of the water, but it was a petite little thing. He brought it over to his waiting family anyway, and held it up to Noctis, who was entranced by its wiggling.
“Kinda puny, I know,” he said. It wasn’t puny enough to throw back though, so he fell crosslegged into his spot across from Ignis and began to prep it for cooking. “Don’t worry, Daddy’ll do better next time.”
A choking little snort exploded in Ignis’ throat, but he held it down valiantly. His hands jerked slightly though, and a chunk of turmeric flew across the way and hit Gladio in the chest.
“Hey, thanks,” Gladio said with a laugh, and stuck the slice of root in his mouth to chew on. He hummed appreciatively.
As soon as he finished cleaning it, Gladio left the fish for Ignis and went back to fishing. He came back ten minutes later with another small fish and sat down to repeat the task, snagging another turmeric sliver from the pile. Ignis handed him one of their collapsible cups, full of turmeric tea. “Careful,” he cautioned. “It’s hot.”
Gladio sipped at the tea as Ignis cooled down a spoonful to share with Noctis, who was always eager to be fed, even if it was just root water. “Nice,” Gladio said, apparently savoring the tea. In Ignis’ opinion, he looked perfectly at ease, leaning back on one hand in the damp grass, surrounded by nature. He had looked at home in the desert, and he looked at home here too. It seemed any kind of nature suited him. Gladio corroborated this interpretation by saying, “Y’know, aside from the mortal danger, I’m kind of liking this long camping trip.”
“You’re clearly in your element,” Ignis said with a nod.
“Too bad you never went out camping with me. I think it coulda been fun.”
Gladio had invited Ignis once or twice, back when Noct was still so little that he hadn’t been foisted off onto them yet, but Ignis had been busy studying for one of the main certifications he had been expected to get– something about international law that wasn’t going to be remotely helpful to them if they continued to evade capture like they planned. He hadn’t had the time to spare for a weekend to hang out with a friend. He had thought at the time that there would be plenty of opportunities later; after all, he and Gladio would be working together for years to come. He’d had no idea just how true that might be, and now he regretted not taking that time when it was still available to him. He imagined camping with just the two of them would have been a mite different than it had been this past week. He wondered if that invite was the last chance he would have had to eschew responsibility for any amount of time.
“Well,” he said, mentally clearing his head of whatever pointless regrets he might now have. “Now we get to share it with Noct.”
“I don’t think he’s old enough to appreciate it yet,” Gladio said, finishing cleaning the second fish, “but maybe in a couple years.”
Ignis wondered if Gladio had really thought about what life would be like for those next few years or if he was just saying that– if he was just embodying the father figure he was supposed to be. Ignis wasn’t sure if he wanted to think about it himself, or if all that imagining would put too much stress on him when he needed to be focusing on their most relevant concerns, of which whether or not Noctis might enjoy camping in the future was not one.
He decided not to think about it. The fish needed cooking, after all.
As he cooked the two small fish in the now empty pot, he called over to Gladio, who had gone back to the dock again. “How much time do we have? Is the haven much further?”
“Nah, should be pretty close,” Gladio called back over his shoulder. “Maybe an hour or two.”
That was close enough that Ignis knew they could make it even if they only set out at the beginning of the summer’s long dusk– not that they would ever be that careless; there was always the chance the map was wrong. He tried to relax for a while and feel a bit of the calm that Gladio obviously felt there in their little slice of forest paradise. Truly, the breeze was nice, and they hadn’t seen any other refugees for a while. It was easy enough to imagine that they were the only ones out there. It wasn’t a story he could believe for very long; it was always hard for Ignis to forget the truth of his responsibilities. Still, he tried, and the breather was nice.
He took the time to let Noctis practice walking around on his own a little. That was one thing that had suffered from their constant traveling around lately. He hoped that Noct’s development wasn’t harmed, but it was just another thing he had to resist thinking about too much until the more immediate danger had passed.
‘And when will that be?’ he wondered.
They didn’t stay at the pond quite until dusk, but the sun was beginning to approach the horizon, and Gladio had caught three more fish by the time they wrapped up their picnic and continued heading west. However, not ten minutes from the pond, they discovered a farm, which caught them pleasantly by surprise.
“Map doesn’t mark settlements,” Gladio said, looking over the map again, in case he missed something important. But it was a hunter’s map, and mostly indicated things of interest to a hunter. “Guess it couldn’t hurt to note it, though.” He scribbled ‘farm’ down on the paper, near where he estimated them to be.
The farm was pretty quiet, but there were a few workers who seemed mildly surprised when they wandered in, dressed in their days-old city clothes and carrying an infant.
“What brings you about?” the manager asked, looking them up and down. He didn’t verbally assume that they were refugees. Ignis wondered if he’d seen any out this way yet, or if everyone was taking the more direct highway routes.
“Passing through,” Ignis replied, as the manager looked to him for the answer.
“Heading to Alstor Sloughs,” Gladio added. “To meet up with a hunting buddy.”
The man shook his head briefly. “You won’t make it there on foot tonight.”
“We’re set to camp over at the haven,” Gladio said, patting the strap of his backpack. “Have any produce for sale? My partner keeps telling me the kid needs to eat his veggies, but all I caught down at that pond is a couple of fish.”
That got a short laugh from the farmer, and he nodded over to the fields. “We’ve already shipped the day’s harvest, but if you want to pick a few onions, help yourself.”
“Much obliged,” Gladio said with a salute and a winning smile, before leading the way down to the fields. Ignis watched the display from beside him, admiring how easily Gladio talked to strangers, and easily strangers took a liking to him.
Ignis wasn’t sure if he’d be able to identify onions on their own, but they headed to the plot the farmer had pointed out and started gingerly tugging on a few of the plants.
“Plant fishing is almost as hard as regular fishing,” Gladio joked, when the bulbs didn’t come straight out on the first yank. But after a few minutes they ended up with a bouquet of onion plants. On further inspection, Ignis decided he would have recognized them after all, as the leafy green tops looked like scallions. He knew that much about cooking, at least.
The haven was just across the road from the edge of the farm, though they had to pick their way across the rocky ground around it. They were practically a stone’s throw from the Disc of Cauthess there, and the land still showed signs of the meteor impact. It was the closest Ignis had ever been to such an amazing landmark, but he couldn’t spare much thought for it at the moment. There was a lot of natural beauty around, surely, but in the face of their capital’s invasion, it didn’t seem as mighty as it probably should.
They set up camp on the haven stone, had a dinner of fish and onions, and then curled into their sleeping bags. It wasn’t terribly hard to fall asleep, but Ignis woke halfway through the night, the dampness having settled over him, and found it hard to get back to sleep. Feeling that Ignis was no longer sleeping, Noct woke too, and his fussing woke Gladio.
“Apologies,” Ignis said, trying to soothe Noct back to sleep. It would be so much easier if they had some warm milk– or any milk, or anything warm at all.
“It’s fine,” Gladio replied, yawning. “I’m not sleeping great either. Kinda humid tonight.”
A few minutes passed, and Noct still wouldn’t settle, so Ignis sighed and suggested, “Perhaps I should warm up some tea for breakfast.” He sat up, still sort of bleary.
“I’ll take Noct for a bit,” Gladio said, holding his arms out for the baby. Ignis was more than happy to hand him over.
As he found their pot and set it over their little fire, he noticed Gladio from the corner of his eye; he’d snuggled Noct into submission, and the two of them looked very cozy in his sleeping bag. Ignis felt something in his chest like ice melting, warm and dripping down the crags of his heart. It was an awkward little flutter, a feeling he’d come to associate with that anxiety over the idea of Gladio leaving one day. He sighed and turned back to the pot to shave some more turmeric root into it. Maybe Gladio would leave one day, and maybe he wouldn’t. But he was there for now, and Noct was happy.
In the quiet before the morning, he found himself running numbers and dates in his head. He calculated that it was the ninth day since the attack on the capital. The fighting had begun late in the morning, so it hadn’t been nine full days yet, but the time would come soon enough. As early as it was, though, it felt a bit like they were in some timeless no-man’s land. Looking out into the darkness, he wondered if there were daemons prowling just outside the safety of the haven, or if perhaps they were all feasting in the city. He wasn’t going to find out, of course. Better to assume danger lay around every corner and in every creeping shadow.
Noct had gone back to sleep, and Gladio may as well have been asleep. Ignis sat by the fire and breathed in the smell of the warming tea, and read one of the several small paperback books Gladio had stuffed in the corners of his backpack. For a little while, he was able to forget himself and his circumstances.
A bit later, as the sun had begun to creep up behind the mountains to the east, Gladio crept out of his sleeping bag, leaving Noct to continue resting. He poured himself a cup of tea– perhaps a little over-steeped, but hot, which was what really mattered. He sat right next to Ignis and leaned his whole body against him. In the morning chill, Ignis wasn’t surprised by the contact. He allowed himself to lean back too, and they shared a granola bar they’d snagged from somewhere.
They were on the road again within the next hour, following a big pipe that ran adjacent to the road but mostly blocked them from view. It also blocked their view of the street, but a big sign jutted up over it tall enough to catch their attention and alert them to a fork in the road.
“A chocobo ranch?” Ignis asked, reading the large, cheerful sign. He thought about what he knew of the area. “I knew there was something of the sort about somewhere, but I didn’t know it would be on our path.”
Gladio consulted the map. “That’s the way we gotta go anyway. Wanna check it out?”
Ignis replied almost robotically. “We can hardly afford to waste our time.” But after only a moment of consideration he realized there was little truth to that, and contradicted himself. “Alright. I don’t see why not. A ranch ought to have food available, at least.”
“Yeah, and you know what else it might have,” Gladio said, perking up. “Chocobos. You ever ridden one before? They’re fast. Not as fast as a car, but they don’t have to stick to the roads.”
“Could we be lucky enough to find one?” Ignis knew better than to start hoping, but it was something that hadn’t occurred to him, and was obvious in hindsight.
“It’s a ranch.” Gladio’s head tilted in a soft shrug. “They should have ‘em. That’s kinda the whole point, isn’t it?”
The ranch wasn’t far; they crossed over the road and continued following the right fork, and saw more signage for it within minutes. It was less than an hour before they were upon it. When Ignis saw how inviting it was, he said, “Would that we’d known this was here. We could have come straight this way last night.”
Laughing, Gladio said, “Yeah, I guess Dave didn’t think it was important to mention on his map. Not a lot of dangerous creatures to hunt.”
The place was busy, but almost the kind of busy a popular attraction should be. It was overly crowded with refugees, like any habitable place they’d been the past week, but it didn’t darken the mood of the place. Or, Ignis thought, perhaps it was darkened, and the place was downright jovial on normal occasions.
The most notable thing, but the one that didn’t immediately occur to them, was that there were no chocobos in sight. The stalls were empty except for the little hay piles where the birds presumably slept normally.
“It seems they’re out of birds,” Ignis mentioned, disappointed, as they came down the walkway into the courtyard.
“Not quite,” Gladio replied, chuckling as he gestured to some chickens poking around in the dirt. “They’ve got some babies. Maybe Noct can ride one.”
Ignis laughed at himself when he realized the chickens were, in fact, chocobo chicks. He didn’t bother telling Gladio about the mix-up.
The ranch proprietor was a man called Wiz, and they sought him immediately. He wasn’t hard to find; he stood in the middle of the courtyard, looking rather like a king overseeing his lands, albeit in the garb of a farmer. They decided to introduce themselves– anonymously.
“Nice place you have here,” Gladio said as he sauntered up to the man, looking around, as if he were the foreign king appreciating his neighbor’s land and hoping for trade. “Can’t help but notice there’s no birds though.”
“You noticed right,” said Wiz, with some amusement. Ignis got the feeling they weren’t the first people to have ‘noticed’ it that day. “They’ve all been rented out for days now. I’d love to tell ya when they’ll be back, but I got no way of knowin’.”
“Damn shame,” Gladio said, shaking his head. “Still, rather be here than most of the places we’ve stopped this week. We’re looking for a hunt up in Alstor Slough, something a buddy of mine is after. Mind if we hang around until we’re ready to go after it?”
Wiz’s proud expression changed when he realized they were hunters. “By all means. But, say, if you’re looking for some work, I’ve got a few other hunts I could use your help with, not as far out as the Slough.”
Gladio looked to Ignis for input, and apparently came to a decision based on his neutral expression. “Yeah, sure,” he told Wiz. “We’ll see what we can do.”
The owner sat them at a nearby table so they could eat while he went over the marks with them. Ignis appreciated that the man knew how to make a sale, because they were considerably happier to help once they had food in their stomachs. Even Noct couldn’t complain when he had ice cream in his mouth. It was such a little luxury, something Wiz had obviously saved for special occasions.
“Any other hunters around here?” Gladio asked as he flipped through a stack of bounties with one hand and stabbed broccoli on the end of his fork with the other. There were several more marks than Ignis thought he could reasonably handle in one day, even though it was still long before noon. Furthermore, there was at least one daemon bounty; Gladio stared at it several moments longer than the rest.
“Usually,” Wiz told them. “A guy named Dave comes and goes, but I ain’t seen him in weeks now.”
“Dave,” Gladio repeated. “Auburnbrie? That’s the guy we’re looking for.”
“Well if ya find him, maybe you can team up on a few of these.”
They didn’t bother to tell Wiz that if they found Dave, they likely wouldn’t be returning to the chocobo post. He didn’t seem to be expecting that much from them anyway.
As they finished their lunch and dessert, Gladio agreed to go handle as many of the daytime hunts as he could, but ‘no promises’. He said nothing regarding the daemon, and Wiz showed no disappointment.
“Be back before sundown,” Gladio said, clapping Ignis on the shoulder and ruffling Noct’s hair. “Or when my bag’s too full of loot to carry. Whichever comes first.”
“Good luck,” Ignis told him, his smile just verging on sad to see Gladio leave again. There was little doubt that he would return victorious and mostly unscathed, but every time he left them was one more chance that it would be the last.
To distract himself from brooding and to further ingratiate them to Wiz, Ignis offered to help in the kitchen. Though less hectic than the Hammerhead, there were still refugees clamoring to be fed.
“Much obliged,” Wiz replied to the offer. “I’ll pay you for the assistance, of course.”
“Let’s start with room and board,” Ignis suggested, and they shook on it. Then Wiz pulled a cookie out of his pocket and handed it to Noctis, as if to seal the deal further. Ignis didn’t have the heart to stop him, then or any of the subsequent times Wiz plied the child with treats. Noct ought to keep a good diet, but… Times were tough. Cookies provided energy and joy. Really, what more could he want for the little prince just then?
At Wiz’s behest, Ignis let himself into the interior of the ranch, a space that was kept somewhat private. It was not entirely clear of small groups of refugees, but neither was it overrun. He didn’t have to risk stepping on anyone to cross the hall to the kitchen. The chef he found there was a little harried, but less than Hammerhead’s Takka had been, by virtue of the diners not having direct access to him. He cooked, and someone ran the meals out to those waiting for it. If anyone had a problem with his skill or his speed, he was happily oblivious to it.
With just a short introduction, he accepted Ignis’ help, and set him up with a cutting board to prep the only meal he could confidently cook: fried rice. That was how the remainder of their morning was spent. Near lunch time, the waitress told Ignis that his ‘partner’ was looking for him, so he and Noct took a break and went to eat with Gladio.
“Two down,” Gladio said proudly. “They were the closer ones, but I still think I can get three more before sunset.”
“Just keep your wits about you,” Ignis asked.
“I’ll be careful, babe,” Gladio replied, with only the slightest hint of joking irony.
Ignis tried not to roll his eyes too hard at the pet name. “Thank you, dear.”
Of course Gladio only grinned at hearing Ignis call him anything so cute, so if he’d been hoping that pet names worked as retaliation, then he was disappointed.
The afternoon passed just like the morning. Ignis, with Noct in the sling on his back, chopped and fried vegetables and eggs, making rice so fast they actually exceeded the demand for food and had to pack some away as leftovers. In calmer moments, the chef offered to show Ignis how to cook whatever he was working on, which included perfectly seared salmon, and fried gysahl greens. When it was busier, Ignis gave the waitress a hand in delivering food to the crowd out in the courtyard. And from time to time, he took a break to let Noct stretch his legs and drink some milk, apologizing in his mind for the fact that this was the first time all week he’d had any. He swore silently that he’d take better care of the little one, as soon as he was able.
It was a little after sundown that Gladio returned again, and it was only because he was still indoors that Ignis hadn’t begun to fret. Daemons didn’t seem to come out in twilight, but if he’d watched the sun go down over the disc, Ignis would have worried that Gladio was cutting it too close. As it was, he just had a moment of surprise when he joined Gladio out in the courtyard and found the sky a red-streaked purple.
“Well, you made it back alive,” he noted, although his tone of voice was obviously not terribly impressed that it was so dark already. “And your final count?”
A too-charming smile came up on Gladio’s face. “Six,” he said proudly. “Didn’t have time to gut the last two kills, but there was only so much I could carry anyway.” On that note, he started rummaging through his backpack and unloading the hides and talons and furs he’d collected, putting the marks’ trophies in a pile for Wiz to approve of.
“Impressive,” Ignis said, aware that his compliment sounded a little flat. “I’m just glad you got back safe.”
Gladio paused in his sorting and looked up at Ignis curiously. “Yeah, of course,” he said after a moment. He looked back down at his piles and heaved a well-worn sigh. “This much barely fits in the backpack. I don’t think I’ll bother with the sixth one, next time.”
It was more of a concession than Ignis had been expecting, and given that he’d had no right to even ask that Gladio hunt less, since that was largely what was keeping them fed right then, he was glad that Gladio understood what he was really getting at: that, more than anything, he wanted him to come back to their side as quickly and safely as possible.
The ranch had a small store that had mostly been selling (and giving away) supplies that week, but the shopkeep agreed to buy some of Gladio’s loot off of him, figuring the market for animal parts would return once things settled down. That left them enough room in the backpack to pack a few shelf-stable meals– Ignis’ pay for the day, on top of the meals they ate while they were there, and the privilege of sleeping inside, in a carpeted corner of the semi-private lobby.
As they were falling asleep, rain started pattering on the rooftop.
“I feel bad for the people stuck out there,” Gladio murmured. “Still, I hate to say it, but better them than us.”
Ignis breathed out a short laugh. “Think of it as ‘better them than Noct’. Does that make you feel better?”
“I don’t feel that guilty.”
If Gladio’s guilt was anything like Ignis’, he imagined it was a complicated little thing, tempered largely by their larger purpose. “If it’s any consolation, I think we’d be forgiven,” he said, and then clarified in their obscure fashion, “for putting our… family before others.”
Nobody would begrudge them the chance to sleep inside, stay warm, or eat well, if they knew who the little boy nestled between them was. And their Crownsguard duty to the people would almost certainly be forgiven if the king knew they were trying so desperately to protect Noctis.
He wondered how Regis would feel if he knew his tiny son was being looked after by teenagers. They were fairly well-trained teenagers, true enough, but he doubted they were the ones Regis would have trusted Noctis to if he’d had a choice. Not yet, at least. Not before they’d finished their training and Noct was at least capable of literally standing on his own. Ignis considered the unlikely but possible idea that Regis was still alive out there somewhere. If he was, he’d be worried sick over his son. Ignis felt a little ill just thinking about being in that position.
But then Noct kicked him in the stomach, and Gladio’s arm brushed his as he rubbed Noct’s back. There was no worrying necessary. All he had to do was keep close and keep watch.
Chapter Text
Morning came, damp and cool. They didn’t rise quite with the sun, being indoors and just a little too comfortable to want to move, after the previous night had been so uncomfortable on the misty haven rock. But rise they did, eventually, to grab some breakfast and a final word with Wiz before they set out. (This was, however, after each taking a short sink bath. It was less than they would have liked, but more than they’d had for days.)
Gladio took out his map and showed it to Wiz, while Ignis tried to feed Noct jam-laden toast without getting it all over the place. (He had quite a few little teeth, but his bite wasn’t quite strong enough to reliably rip off bites of toast, even though it was plenty strong when you were feeding him snacks by hand. Ignis thought that bruise might never fade.)
“Know of any hunts up here around the lake?” Gladio asked, pointing to the only notable water feature on the map. “Dave was going after something in north Alstor, but I don’t know what.”
“Sorry, friend,” Wiz said, shaking his head. “Bounties up thatta way probably come from Coernix Station. Anything up north of Neeglyss pond ain’t likely to bother us too much down here.”
“Thanks anyway,” Gladio said, putting the map back in his pocket. He turned to Ignis and said, “I was hoping to save some time and find Dave at the hunt site, but I guess we’ll head to the station and see if he’s been there any time recently.”
“What are the chances you’d find him at the exact moment of the hunt?” Ignis asked, skeptical of things lining up that well when Dave had eluded them for so long.
Shrugging, Gladio said, “Hey, a guy can dream.”
Ignis wouldn’t begrudge Gladio a little extra optimism, so he went back to wiping jam off Noct’s chin and tactfully didn’t press the matter.
As soon as breakfast was done, they waved goodbye to Wiz and headed on their way, leaving the ranch through the back yard, which opened out into the wide sloping field of Alstor Slough. Taking the paved road would have been easier, as usual, but the route through the field was technically more direct, and far more scenic, as well as being more private.
“And I think I cleared out the most dangerous beasts yesterday,” Gladio said. Although, of course, he still took point, and kept his broadsword ready.
It was not exactly a leisurely walk, the grassy ground just a little too spongy in places for it to be a careless stroll in the park, but at least the humidity combined with Duscae’s natural windiness kept them from feeling like they were baking, like they had under the hot, dry Leiden sun. For late summer, it was nearly what Ignis would call comfortable.
As they walked, they kept an eye out for two things: Ignis, for harvestable plants; Gladio, for dangerous beasts. Ignis had some luck a few times. He stopped them for what he was
almost entirely sure
were wild strawberries, and then again for a couple handfuls of mint, which Alyssa had taught him to recognize. At first he’d been planning to wait until they could ask a second opinion of someone who knew about food, but when Noctis began greedily grabbing for what he was
positive
were delicious, edible fruits he wanted in his mouth immediately, Ignis handed a big one over to Gladio.
“Will you do the honors of taste testing these?” he asked, mildly exasperated by Noct’s acute desperation for dessert.
Gladio ate the strawberry without complaint, and they stood there and bore Noct’s screaming for a few minutes, just to make sure that if the strawberries were poisonous then they’d have a little time to work on Gladio first.
“Normally I’d say better safe than sorry, but he
really
wants these,” Gladio said, laughing as Noctis tried to wrestle his way out of Ignis’ arms and into the backpack pocket they’d stored the berries in.
“And normally I would agree with you,” Ignis said, leaning away from Noct’s flailing while still trying to restrain him. “But I think his screaming has started to weaken my resolve.”
Letting the child snatch a berry from his hand, Gladio said, “Pretty sure giving your kid a possibly poisonous berry isn’t the
dumbest
thing a parent has done. My dad always said having a toddler decreased your IQ by at least ten percent.” He laughed. “Never could figure out if he was talking about me or Iris.”
“Oh,
you,
most certainly,” Ignis said, chuckling. “I’m sure your angel of a little sister could never have frustrated your parents.”
Snorting, Gladio just shook his head.
Noctis neither died nor had any more adverse reactions than continued hunger for the rest of the day, so ultimately they allowed themselves to stop feeling guilty.
Gladio’s search for dangerous beasts was somewhat less successful than Ignis’ search for consumables. Normally that would be considered a positive outcome, but in this case Gladio was a little disappointed not to run across anything that looked like it could be a real inconvenience for the locals. If it wasn’t particularly dangerous, it likely didn’t have a bounty out on it, and if it didn’t have a bounty, then it wasn’t the creature Dave was out hunting. The fact that they didn’t see any potential marks meant that either Dave’s hunt was evading them, they were in the entirely wrong area, or Dave had already killed the beast and stripped its valuable parts, and the rest of its corpse had been dragged off by scavengers already.
One of those options meant Dave might still be in the area. The second option meant he was
somewhere
nearby. If it was the third, then he could be anywhere, depending on how long ago he’d finished the hunt.
Ignis privately thought Dave could be halfway across the world by then. Gladio never spent days on a single hunt, so why should someone who was by all regards a professional hunter linger near one mark for nearly a week? It was clear, though, that Gladio was counting on this lead working out, so Ignis didn’t try to persuade him to give it up, and he promised he wouldn’t say ‘I expected as much’ when things didn’t pan out. Gladio had already agreed to try something different if this thread went nowhere; there was no need to rush it by a few more hours.
Anyway, he needed those hours to plan their next step, because it was clear that if Gladio failed then it was his turn to lead them next.
Perhaps if they dug a deep enough hole they’d be safe from the Empire.
Along their path, or just out of their way very slightly, according to Gladio’s map, they passed several havens. It was reassuring to know there were a few safe zones within range, should they somehow fail to make it to Coernix station sufficiently quickly, but Ignis didn’t relish the idea of sleeping outside again, after the foggy chill of the previous morning. The havens would have been nice stopping points for lunch, at least, but they could already see Neeglyss pond in the distance, and what looked like a small dock on its southern shore.
“Dry rations, or fresh fish?” Gladio asked, already knowing that Ignis (and moreover Noctis) would prefer to spend the afternoon by the lake, particularly if it meant warm, fresh meat.
“Lead on,” Ignis told him, waving him off.
Neeglyss pond was definitely something more of a lake; Ignis could
just
make out the details of the landscape on the other side. It did seem somewhat shallow, considering the gigantic creatures that walked around in the middle of it were barely submerged past their ankles. Even the ankles on a four-story-tall beast were massive, but the relative depth was negligible.
Gladio saw him eyeing the creatures warily. “Don’t mind the catoblepas," he said as he unwound his length of fishing line and attached it to the end of a sturdy stick.
“Oh, they’re docile?” Ignis asked, feeling relieved that he could put the beasts from his mind.
“Not really,” Gladio said casually. “Saw one smash a bullette to pieces once.”
“That doesn’t put me at ease.”
Shrugging, Gladio made a sage suggestion. “Just don’t stand underneath ‘em.”
The land near the lake was much swampier than their picnic location from the other day, so Ignis and Noct stayed with Gladio on the dock. Someone had left a little folding chair to be used by the fishermen, but Gladio didn’t mind standing or squatting, and Ignis happily took the seat for a short reprieve from the pressure that carrying a small human put on his spine. Before he could get too comfortable with sitting, he heaved himself out of the chair and took Noct to rummage for dry enough plant material to light a fire, which ended up being the day’s greatest difficulty. Eventually though, they had a fire, a few cups of weak mint tea (with strawberries in it, because they could), and some pan-fried fish. The breeze off the water misted their faces, but it was warm enough that it was pleasant instead of gross.
The rest of the journey to Coernix station was quick-paced, but meandering, as they circled around the west side of the pond and then followed it back clockwise nearly to their fishing spot, looking out for dangerous beasts or signs that one had been dispatched recently. Ignis kept a watchful eye on the catoblepas, but neither the giants nor any other creature tried to bother them, and Gladio found no signs he could follow; the only clear human footprints were theirs.
“Rain last night probably washed away any usable tracks,” Gladio grumbled.
He kept looking, though, until they’d wound back and forth like a drunk imp across the whole of northern Alstor, and ran out of ground to cover. At least that put them within a stone’s throw of Coernix station. It took them a few minutes to find the stairway access to the highway, but then within minutes they’d crossed the road and were at the rest stop, where Gladio’s luck finally took (though not immediately).
Being so close to the highway, the station was crowded with refugees– less than the Hammerhead, but more than Longwythe, and certainly more than the chocobo post. Ignis thought he might have even recognized a few people from the hunter’s camp, which had probably been the previous stop for most of them. (Alyssa’s family wasn’t among them, but Ignis hadn’t expected to see them. He hoped they’d hitched that ride to Lestallum they were planning on.)
The lot of them looked somewhat more organized than they had at the start of their escape from the capital; at least, people weren’t sprawled all over the road anymore. The week had seemingly taught the refugees a few basic survival skills, such as keeping your wits about you. They looked much less lost, on the whole.
As usual, they first checked in with the diner’s cook, as he was the man handing out bounties. He was busy and didn’t seem interested in sparing much time for them. They found out why when they asked if there were any marks that needed handling.
“Nothin’ at the moment, thanks,” he said distractedly, paying them little mind, as if hunters willing to kill your monsters for you were quite boring to him.
Ignis could tell that Gladio was thinking of pressing the man, because there was next to no chance that the area had simply been unprecedentedly peaceful that week, but the cook was already taking someone else’s food order and barking at his harried helper.
“Small blessings,” Ignis said, and motioned out the door. They left the chaos of the diner and found a shaded corner to stand in while they thought.
“Not like I
wanted
them to be overrun with beasts,” Gladio said, just a touch defensive.
Shaking his head, Ignis said, “I know. But if there are no bounties, then someone must have collected them.”
“Right.” Gladio took a deep breath and looked around. Then he pulled out his map. “We won’t make it anywhere else tonight, unless you wanna sleep on a rock again. Might as well take a look around, and set out again in the morning.”
“How far is the next stop?”
Gladio’s eyes and mouth were both lined with faint tired ridges when he responded, “What’s the next stop?” It was only barely a question, and just as much an admission that he didn’t know what they were supposed to do now.
Ignis had no clue either, but he had to pick something, and only one destination stood out from the wreckage of information piled into his mind. “Lestallum,” he said. “Unless there’s a closer city or reputable rest stop.”
Looking down at the map as if he doubted it would be of much use, Gladio charted their course and did some quick calculations. “Three days,” he suggested. “Might be two as the crow flies, but Lestallum’s in the middle of a mountain. Path to get there winds a couple miles up the hill and back.”
“Alright,” Ignis said at length, nodding.
Neither of them had ever been to this rest stop before, so they took a tour of the place in hopes of finding somewhere dry to sleep, or someone who might want to trade more camping gear. It was a small station, with the usual square convenience store and rectangular diner, and a camper parked out to the side, but there were also two lots of storage containers and sheds, which apparently (or hopefully) were well-enough lit in the evenings that people could bunk down safely there. There was enough room to walk between the little properties families had staked, but not enough to stake one of their own. They were investigating the right-most lot, hoping there was some place left that would be under spotlights come nighttime, when a voice caught their attention.
It caught Gladio’s attention, at least. Ignis didn’t recognize the outlander drawl.
“Well if it ain’t Amicitia!”
They’d nearly walked right past the man, too focused on the thought of having to sleep on concrete or dirt. Gladio’s eyes were childishly wide as he turned to the voice, which belonged to a plain-looking man in a hunting vest.
“Dave!” Gladio nearly shouted, in relieved surprise. “You’re exactly the man I’ve been looking for! We’ve been everywhere lookin’ for you.”
“Well here I am,” Dave said, giving them a friendly smirk.
Ignis was entranced by the light on Gladio’s face as he caught up with his hunter friend. Even his voice was pitched slightly higher in enthusiasm, and the effect made him look and sound his age for once. The weariness that had started to show when his optimism had begun to fade was now nowhere to be found. He was lively; he looked like he might hug Dave, like he was a long-lost uncle.
“You were in the capital when it happened, huh?” Dave asked, glancing at Gladio’s entourage and likely noticing that neither the young man nor the baby was really prepared for camping.
Gladio nodded. “Yeah. Got out of there in a hurry, but, um, I don’t know what happened to the rest of the, uh, my family.”
Dave could apparently tell that Gladio’s stammering hid questions he didn’t want to ask. “Your family,” Dave repeated. “I don’t know about the Amicitias specifically, but I did help a few of your colleagues get to Lestallum a few days ago.”
“Lestallum. So
someone’s
safe.” It wasn’t exactly the answer Gladio had been hoping for, but it was far better than nothing. He looked over his shoulder at Ignis, as if to check that he’d heard the good news, but when he caught his eye he seemed to remember something and turned back to Dave. “Oh yeah, and about my name: it’s, uh,
Scientia.”
He nodded to Ignis, as if that would explain the sudden change.
Though he’d understood Gladio’s other unspoken commentary, Dave appeared a little confused by this one. “Did I get it wrong before?”
“No, uh, I just got married,” Gladio explained, sounding uncharacteristically embarrassed. He gestured back at Ignis again. “Meet Ignis. And this is our kid, Noct.”
“Nice to meetcha,” Dave said to Ignis, tipping an invisible hat at him, before looking back at Gladio with barely suppressed skepticism. “Ain’t you a little young to be married?”
Gladio rolled his eyes, catching Ignis’ gaze as he laughed, like this was something they’d heard so much that it became a joke. “Everyone always says that, but at least we waited until after high school.”
That
was technically true, at least. Neither of them had had secondary school classes for years by that point.
Dave just stared at Gladio for a moment, with a “hmm”, and then finally said, “Well, the more ya know.” Ignis wasn’t sure if he got what Gladio wasn’t telling him, but it didn’t really matter. The point was that Dave didn’t go around shouting ‘Amicitia’. Whether he believed they were married or thought a little differently of Gladio all of a sudden didn’t affect them much. He was still willing to help them where it mattered most. “You’ll be trying to meet up with your friends now, I take it?”
“Yeah,” Gladio said, nodding. “Regrouping is always step one. After that, well, I figure there’s gotta be
some kind
of chain of command.”
Hunters were sovereign units that operated mostly on their own or in temporary teams, but Dave seemed to understand the importance of Gladio having someone to report to, even if he didn’t know just
how
severe the situation was. “I’ll get you to Lestallum first thing in the morning,” he said. “A hunter friend of mine is ferrying people there in her truck. Makes three trips a day. I’ll get you on the first one.”
Ignis grimaced, his mood slipping back into dreary anxiety from the heights of hope it had climbed to a few moments before. He and Gladio shared a look, which was not hidden from Dave’s keen eye.
“Sorry, can’t getcha there any faster,” he said, before it occurred to him that the problem might be something else. “Unless there’s a reason you ain’t caught a ride yet.”
For a moment, Ignis wondered if they ought to lie to him, to feed him some story about, say, Ignis being afraid of cars, having irrepressible motion sickness or something. But even if that was a believable excuse for not getting to the city as fast as possible, was it right to mislead the man they were hoping to rely on?
Gladio either hadn’t considered lying to Dave, or ran through the scenario at light speed and came to the conclusion that it wasn’t the way. He opted for an opaque truth. “You’re right,” he told Dave. “We’ve gone out of our way to avoid getting stuck in traffic somewhere, just in case the Nifs are searching cars.”
Dave’s brows came right down over his eyes as he tried to listen to what Gladio was really saying. “I know your family’s a big name in the city, but do you think the Nifs are really lookin’ for you?” He didn’t ask the question scathingly, just with mild skepticism. He knew Gladio well enough (or thought he had, at least; maybe finding out that he was apparently married had shaken that) to know his relative place in the hierarchy of Crownsguard. He wasn’t Clarus. He wasn’t Cor. He wasn’t even Dustin. Why should the Nifs be looking for him, or even know how to recognize him?
It was a valid question, and one to which Ignis hoped the answer was: they wouldn’t.
Clenching his jaw as he decided how to answer, Gladio finally said, carefully, his voice low enough that it shouldn’t carry to the surrounding refugees and their bored, curious ears, “I have reason to believe they might be.”
That was enough for Dave to stop asking questions. “Alright then,” he said, and because he was neither looking at Noct, nor carefully avoiding looking at him, Ignis figured he hadn’t figured out
why
they might be looking for Gladio so carefully. Still, he wasn’t pressing them for answers or refusing his help, and that was what mattered. “No cars or trucks. Hmm. I’ve only got one other option, besides a three day uphill walk in the rain.” He pulled a whistle out of his pocket and handed it over to Gladio. “My chocobo’ll get you there, half as fast as a car, but three times as fast as you’d be on foot.”
Gladio’s fingers curled around the whistle. “Don’t you need it?” he asked, though he didn’t seem interested in giving it back.
“I’ll survive without ‘er for a day or two. Sounds like it’s more important that you get to safety.”
Nodding so deep it was almost a bow, Gladio tucked the whistle away safely and said, “Thanks, Dave. You might be a literal lifesaver.”
Dave shrugged lightly. “I’ll always help my people if I can. Now why don’t you three join me for supper, and you can stay in my humble abode for the night.” He thumbed over his shoulder at the shack, which bore a strong resemblance to their little vacation home from earlier in the week. “It ain’t much, but it’s got a roof and four walls, and a bed too.”
“We’d be much obliged,” Ignis told him, but he noticed that beside him Gladio seemed a little less sure about accepting the offer.
“I appreciate it,” he told Dave, “but I’m thinking maybe we oughtta just get going. The sooner we get to Lestallum, the better.”
Shaking his head, Dave said, “At this point, it won’t matter much. She won’t run after dark, and you won’t get there before nightfall. If you leave in the morning, you should make it to the city by dusk. You could stop part-way for the night, but you’ll only get there a few hours sooner, and be sleeping on a rock for your trouble.”
Ignis looked at Gladio with what he recognized was probably a pleading expression. “It was what we’d planned on to begin with, wasn’t it? To leave in the morning?”
“Yeah,” Gladio admitted, sighing. He turned to Dave, to accept his offer. “Alright. We’ll stay ‘til morning. Thanks.”
“Not a problem,” Dave told him. “But you can pay me back by helping with dinner. Unless you’re good with just beans, we’ll have to go hunting.”
Back in his comfort zone, Gladio grinned. “That I can do. You alright to hang out for a while, Iggy?”
There was still plenty enough light that they could all go out without risking being caught in the dark, and strolling through an open field was bound to be more pleasant than sitting around a crowded parking lot, but it occurred to Ignis that they could just
rest
if they stayed behind, and that was a rare enough option to be enticing.
“If Dave doesn’t mind us using his ‘humble abode’.”
“Sure thing,” Dave said. He turned and held the door open for them, then gave them the grand tour. “It ain’t much, but it’s all yours. There’s the bed, there’s the desk, cans of beans on the shelf if you get hungry, light switch is on the wall. Make yourself at home.”
“Thank you,” Ignis said, changing places with him as he made to head out for the hunt, and Ignis prepared to hold down the fort. “Please watch after Gladio for me.”
“Will do.”
Laughing, Gladio said, “I’m gonna be watching after
him.”
He stepped past Dave and came up into Ignis’ space for a more personal goodbye, ruffling Noct’s hair like he usually did before he left. But then he surprised Ignis with a gesture he’d never seemed to think was necessary before: he kissed him square on the cheek. “Be back soon,” he said softly, and then disappeared before Ignis could respond.
Ignis touched his cheek with his hand, like the kiss might have left a mark on his skin. “Be sure that you do…” he replied, several long moments too late. Gladio had already faded into the crowd.
Instead of standing there and staring until his feelings resolved themselves, Ignis took a breath and headed back inside, where he closed the door behind them, turned on the light, and opened the blinds on the window, which was the one major difference between this shack and Dave’s Longwythe den. Then he sat Noct down on the floor to let him stretch his legs. The baby wasn’t great at walking yet, and the past week had done nothing to help that particular skill, but the shack was so small across both its width and length that Noctis could just about toddle from one side to another without falling over, and he took great pleasure in being allowed to do so for a little while.
Meanwhile, Ignis sat on the bed and watched his little prince practice, and did absolutely nothing else. No important thoughts crossed his mind. It was wonderful. When Noct had had enough of toddling and exploring the small space, Ignis wrangled him and laid him down for a rare mid-day nap, and then fell into a half sleep next to him.
The refugees’ clamoring was what alerted him that Gladio and Dave had returned, hauling a garula into the lot, with the help of a few other strong men. The stout, horned beast was not terribly large, but Ignis assumed it was dense and probably incredibly heavy. He watched through the window as they tugged it out to the side lot, far enough away from any campers not to bother anyone when they butchered it. Noct was still sleeping soundly, so Ignis didn’t offer to help. Within the hour, most of the creature was roasting on spits or in stew pots.
When they all gathered around the various communal fires for steak and canned beans, everyone seemed in greater spirits. Gladio was obviously itching to get on the road, but buoyed by the knowledge that some Crownsguard had escaped the city. Ignis was feeling refreshed from a few hours spent doing largely nothing. And Noct had had a good nap, which was his second favorite thing to do, after eating. Dave was enough of an unknown that Ignis could only guess if his mood was better or worse than usual, but he appeared pleased to be able to catch up with Gladio.
Ignis wondered
how much
he’d caught up with Gladio, while they were out there in the privacy of the wilderness. He wasn’t looking at him and Noctis any differently than he had that afternoon. Had Gladio cleared everything up with him? Explained that their supposed marriage and supposed child were a ruse to keep the prince safe?
He supposed it didn’t matter; there was no letting up on this charade, not while there was still danger afoot. Even if Dave knew the truth, they still had to play-act for the rest of the refugees.
Gladio didn’t seem to mind. After the goodbye kiss earlier, Ignis had thought maybe that would be enough affection to get the point across to whoever might be watching them, but during dinner Gladio sat so close they may as well have been joined at the hip, his arm loosely resting around Ignis’ lower back. He was being almost
cuddly,
something he hadn’t really done since that first night, when they’d huddled together on the haven, unaware of what the future would hold. There’d been a reason for it then.
Maybe, behind the general good mood, Gladio was still worried about what they would find in Lestallum tomorrow, and seeking the reassurance of closeness.
It was a lively night, anyway. They were not the only ones who were hoping to make it to the city the next day, and the optimism nearly radiated from the crowd. The cheer was infectious, but the excitement to finally be
somewhere
instead of on the road caused the gathering to die down earlier than expected. It was hardly an hour or two after sunset that Ignis and Gladio retired to Dave’s shack, followed by the man himself as he gathered a few items to take with him for the night.
“I’ll let y’all have a little privacy,” he said, as he grabbed a spare blanket and some things off the shelf. “I’ll be bunkin’ down behind the counter in the shop if you need me.”
“Is that alright?” Ignis asked, guilty about inadvertently kicking the man out of his home (even if he would have probably just slept on the floor in there otherwise).
“‘Course it is,” Dave replied. “I ain’t got any use for privacy myself, and there ain’t gonna be much when you get to the city, I reckon.”
Gladio nodded and stood to close the door after Dave when he went. “Thanks. We’ll take what we can get. Want us to check in with you before we leave tomorrow?”
Dave shook his head. “Nah, don’t bother. I’ll find ya in Lestallum, next few days. You just hold on to that whistle, meantime. Chocobos’re worth their weight in gold lately.”
“I’ll guard it with my life,” Gladio said. Ignis hoped Dave didn’t expect
quite
that much; after all, there was something else he might need to guard with his life, and if for some reason that meant losing a gold-plated chocobo, Ignis was fairly sure Gladio would do it.
He didn’t expect it to come to that, of course; the chocobo was still the
second
most precious thing they had then. Ignis imagined they’d guard it with the rest of their possessions, at least.
With a wave, Dave departed for the night, and the makeshift family settled into the very familiar bed. (The frame was about the same as the one in Longwythe; the blankets were different.) They sandwiched Noctis between them, like before, and shut their eyes with the intention of sleeping. But before the silence could fully settle over them, Ignis couldn’t help asking something.
“Did you tell him the truth?”
“Some of it,” Gladio replied. “I didn’t tell him about us, if that’s what you’re wondering. Easier just to stick with the one story.”
“I feel a bit guilty about lying to him,” Ignis said, softly, a little hesitantly. This story was what they’d agreed on, after all. He shouldn’t be second-guessing it. He just hadn’t expected they’d be telling it to people they’d considered friends. It felt more duplicitous than using it on random civilians.
He could hear Gladio’s faint chuckle. “I wouldn’t worry about it. He won’t hold it against us, when he finds out. It’s for a good cause. I think he’d get that.”
It
was
for a good cause. Noctis’ safety was the only reason Ignis could ever imagine deceiving people like this. He imagined, briefly, if they’d told people even
half
of the truth, that they were just two teenagers trying to care for a child they’d just been babysitting when the attack happened. Nobody would have taken them seriously. He didn’t think people would have respected their need to keep Noct close, either. Someone would have thought they knew better, would’ve pressed to take Noct off their hands and put him in the hands of someone more experienced. And if he was
just
some child they’d been babysitting, maybe that would have been for the best.
But this was for the best, as it was. Ignis couldn’t trust anyone else to have Noct’s best interests in mind.
Supposing they found someone like Monica in Lestallum tomorrow? She was a Crownsguard leader; she was experienced; she was a woman, too. Surely she would have Noct’s best interests at heart?
The idea did not put Ignis at ease.
He laid his forehead gently against Noct’s and breathed in his warm smell. Tomorrow night they would meet up with the other Crownsguard, and Noct would be surrounded and safe. Tonight he had Ignis’ arms, at least.
Chapter Text
The morning came, as it tended to do, and they all got out of bed, straightened their clothes, gathered their gear, and trekked out to the countryside just far enough away from the rest stop that they didn’t risk waking people with the shrill chocobo whistle. Dave’s bird came running in the next minute or so. She blinked at them a little owlishly (vaguely confused about the change in rider, most likely), but didn’t protest when the three of them climbed awkwardly up onto her back.
They sat like nesting dolls, Gladio close behind Ignis, Noct in Ignis’ lap, carefully caged in by his legs. The baby was almost lost in the chocobo’s thick feathers. Worried that he would fall off, despite Ignis’ grip on him, they tied him to Ignis with his overshirt. He seemed unsure about being in this new position, but his little hands gripped the soft yellow feathers gleefully, and Ignis could only hope it didn’t irritate the bird enough to make her try to buck them off.
Behind Ignis’ back, Gladio held the reins, and as soon as they were all situated he flicked them and the chocobo began to move. At first they kept to a walking pace, the sort of pace they probably could have kept on their own two feet, but after a few minutes, Gladio said, “Hold on tight,” and Ignis could feel his legs squeezing the bird’s sides, urging her to pick up speed.
“I hope this won’t be too much for her,” Ignis said, although he wasn’t planning on dissuading Gladio from encouraging as much speed as he thought they needed. If she kept on at less than a trot, they’d find themselves in unknown territory come dark– a fate worse than having gone on foot, for all of them.
Gladio only grunted in response, like he wasn’t confident about the situation but couldn’t bring himself to say so.
Their ride didn’t seem bothered when they spurred her to a trot, then a jog, then finally, eventually, a full-out dash. Noctis wasn’t pleased about it, so they slowed back down to a trot, hoping to soothe him enough that they could try running again. But every time they went fast enough to feel the wind in their hair, he would shriek in displeasure, and after an hour of stop-and-go travel, they took a break for breakfast.
“How are we doing?” Ignis asked, as he took turns with Noctis, nibbling on some plain toast.
With the map spread out over his crossed legs, Gladio took a minute to calculate before he said, “On track, more or less.”
For the next leg of the journey, they turned Noct around so that he was cuddled against Ignis’ chest, and the relative ignorance of how fast they were going seemed to help him be at least a little less afraid of the chocobo’s break-neck speed. They’d passed the Disc and were almost to Cleigne by the time they took lunch.
Lestallum was just about visible on the cliff to the west, and if they were birds (flying birds, anyway) they could be there in no time at all. But a canyon stood in their way, and the only way to the other side was a highway that veered up several miles to the north before turning back down.
“I don’t love it,” Gladio said, pointing out how the highway was surrounded by mountain on most sides. “But it’s the only way to the city, unless we wanna go way south from here.”
“It’s a chance we’ll have to take,” Ignis replied, with a resolute nod.
So chance it they did, this time bundling Noct up in a blanket and wedging him between the two of them. The coziness kept him compliant– and it kept him hidden when they came upon what they’d been dreading the whole week.
The Imperial blockade was situated at the fork where the east-west and north-south roads met on their way up the mountain. It was a choke-point for cars, and each vehicle coming from the south or the east was checked by an armored soldier before it could pass. They hung back and watched from a distance, hoping that the other scattered refugees made them seem less conspicuous. At least they weren’t the only ones on chocobo-back; a few others were milling around as well, maybe trying to decide if they counted as a vehicle or not.
“Whaddya think, Iggy?” Gladio muttered quietly, as if the distant Nifs might hear him.
There wasn’t a whole squadron of soldiers, and they hadn’t brought any of their magitek horrors with them, as far as Ignis could tell. There were a few military trucks parked at awkward angles so as to stop people from driving past as easily, but there were plenty of chocobo-width gaps in their defenses.
“We could make a break for it when the soldiers are all occupied searching the vehicles,” Ignis suggested. But even he could tell that he wasn’t entirely sure it was the best course of action. Their bird was quick– far, far quicker than a soldier in a full suit of armor could ever hope to be, but dashing past them put them in range of the enemy they’d been so carefully avoiding, and even if it was only for a moment, well, it was a moment much too long.
Gladio’s hands tightened on the reins; Ignis could feel them at his back. “If that’s what you wanna do,” he said.
“I don’t,” Ignis said. He sighed heavily. “But trying our luck is better than getting in line. Unless… you think there’s another path across the canyon?”
Gladio gazed over in that direction, then over at the blockade, then towards the sun as it made its descent towards the horizon. “Guess we could take a look,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced that it would produce any results.
And it didn’t, sadly. They strode along the cliff’s edge for the greater part of an hour, finding nothing their mount considered a viable path. There were a few spots where they thought, ‘maybe, maybe’, but even if the chocobo had been willing to leap, they couldn’t in good conscience take the risk with Noct in their laps. They headed back, dread growing. The sun was getting low. Ignis didn’t ask Gladio if they could even make it, because there was no way that he wasn’t actively thinking about their chances, and asking would add an unnecessary layer of stress.
“Alright, when we get back to the blockade, we’ll just make a dash for it,” Gladio said, his voice radiating the tension that his shoulders would probably show, if Ignis could see them.
“Ready,” Ignis replied. It was an overstatement, but a needed one.
When they arrived back within range of the blockade, they found they were in the middle of receiving a mixed blessing. With night around the corner, the Niflheim soldiers were being loaded up into one of the Empire’s metal air transport ships, to be whisked away to safety until morning. On the bright side, it meant the road would be open to them, and anyone else who was foolish enough to be traveling at dusk. But there were very few cars left on the road, and nearly all the foot traffic had disappeared by then. Everyone was wary of the dangers of the night, and waiting for the soldiers to load up was taking precious minutes of light away.
It was beginning to wear on Ignis, who wanted to trust Gladio’s judgment but could hardly even trust his own. “Gladio…” he said, but the question or doubt didn’t voice itself.
“They’re almost done,” Gladio said, gripping the reins hard. “I’m gonna make a break for it.”
There was a pause, just a mental three-count, and then Gladio jabbed his heels into the chocobo’s sides, and they dashed forward, toward the carrier as it lifted off the ground. They passed underneath the floating metal box, holding their breath that it didn’t notice them and drop soldiers straight down on their heads. But they were past it in no time, and the ship’s terrible hum didn’t follow them. Soon they were on the mountain pass, up into the hill, the cliff at the west casting deep shadows over them from the lingering sliver of sun hovering behind it.
How long did twilight last? How long before the road ahead of them was pitch-black, and the chocobo ground to a halt in fear of tripping over its own feet? How long before daemons spawned on top of them, and could they expect the bird to flee from the monsters, and if it did would it flee in the right direction? Would it take them with it?
Gladio’s hands had moved forward on the reins, and in a moment of forcible calm he lowered his hands, resting them just on Ignis’ thighs. But when they passed under a street light and it flickered on, his hands balled into fists around the reins again, pushing down on Ignis’ legs. The streetlight was not a solution to their problem; it was just a pinprick in the coming darkness, just enough to remind them of the lateness of the hour. They couldn’t stop there. It wouldn’t be enough to ward off daemons.
The sky was still tinged with pink, but it was fading fast, and they’d hardly rounded the bend back towards the city. An intersection was coming up on their right, and in the distance: a tunnel. A warm orange glow emanated from it, and Ignis held his breath as they approached it.
Noct could sense how tense his guardians were– or maybe he was just tired of all the running. His little fussing cries were growing in frequency and pitch, audible even over the chocobo’s heavy footsteps and the wind rustling their clothes. The sound and what it meant put both Ignis and Gladio almost over the edge they’d been on.
They reached the tunnel, and through the cutouts in the left wall they could see slivers of sky– purple, deep royal blue, and all too soon a star-speckled black. And as soon as the color left the sky, a faint rumble began to raise up around them. Behind them, a shadow coalesced into a puddle and began to grow upward into a shape that should only have existed in nightmares. They ran from it, the chocobo ‘wark’ing in fear. They stayed a few steps ahead as the shadows grew and grew in their blind spots, a new one popping up every time they outpaced the previous one.
Gladio’s fingers gripped Ignis’ leg, and before Ignis could calm his mind enough to even notice, the king’s shield whipped the reins over Ignis’ head and pressed them into his chest.
“Take the reins!” he shouted, over the groaning of daemons dragging themselves up from the hells. And as soon as his hands were free, he shifted up in his seat, balancing against Ignis for an awkward and worrying moment while he tugged his longsword free from his belt. If Noct hadn’t been tied to his back with his overshirt, Ignis would have been terrified that the child would fall off, but as it was he was instead terrified that Gladio was getting ready to fight daemons from chocobo-back.
More alarming still, the idea that he might think of staying behind to fight them.
Ignis held tight to the reins and leaned forward over the bird’s neck, gritting his teeth, bolstered only by the weight of the squalling baby clinging to his undershirt and clawing lines down his back in distress.
“You had better stay on this godsdamned bird, or so help me–!” He didn’t turn his head away from the road and the shadows flickering in his periphery, but he raised his voice over the horrible noise in the perhaps-vain hope that Gladio would heed him.
A hand squeezed his arm in response. “Just keep your head down and hold on!”
There was nothing more that Ignis could do, aside from pray or swear, so he kept his head down, held on, and did a little of both. He tried not to shudder when Gladio braced himself against him, and when Gladio swung at a shadow that manifested right on their flank, he jerked the chocobo’s reins back so the bird didn’t pitch them straight through a window and over the cliff.
“How much further?!” Ignis shouted desperately, after a glob of pure darkness grabbed at the bird’s leg, making her stumble and shriek in terror.
Gladio’s voice was heavy, strained, when he yelled back, “Just hold on!”
Ignis imagined in his panic-stricken brain that they’d ridden straight down into the hells themselves; each moment was like an eternity, where the hope of safety burned ever more painfully with each step they took.
And then the shadows’ leader came, and there was nothing left for them but to accept death. The chaos almost seemed to calm as they raced towards the giant metalloid monstrosity that loomed ahead of them, taking up near the entire tunnel. Ignis could feel the chocobo’s thick muscles bunching up under its pad of feathers as it skidded almost to a stop. In slow motion, Gladio leaned his chest on Ignis’ back, twisting his torso to the left for a windup as the chocobo tried to keep its footing and the metal devil raised its massive, ornate ax. Gladio was smaller, faster than the daemon, and his swing would connect as the chocobo stumbled into the terrible creature, but by then the daemon would have reared back and no amount of surprise or damage would stop it from bringing its weapon down on their heads; Ignis saw it all as clear as day. He saw that hope was utterly gone.
But no sooner than Gladio had wound himself all the way back and the chocobo was mere feet from the daemon did a barrage of gunfire appear, muzzle flashes exploding behind the monster, silhouetting it in beautiful light.
And Ignis gripped the reins, hard enough for the soft leather to bruise his palms, and pushed his legs in and ducked deep over the chocobo’s neck, and urged it forward. It stumbled one more slow-motion step just as the daemon paused to look over its shoulder, leaning back just enough that they could dart forward and past it. Gladio lost his balance; he dropped his sword onto the asphalt with a clang, and reeled forward to catch himself around Ignis’ neck, kneeing him hard in the back and just managing not to catch Noct’s soft skull with his full weight.
And then time was in full speed again; fast-forward, even. They sped past a cadre of Nif soldiers who were opening fire on the metal giant, and the screaming of civilians who were too close to the fighting. It was a miracle that they didn’t trample anyone; just one more miracle on top of every other one they’d just witnessed. Perhaps Ignis would count them all, one day, he thought.
They sprinted through the crowds of refugees and soldiers, most of whom cared nothing for a frightened chocobo and its riders when there was a daemon at their border. They rode under the city streetlights, passing most of the crowd, and finally slowed down in a less-populous area of parking lot on the edge of a gas station, trotting along to the darkest and most private corner of the property, catching their breath where few eyes would fall upon them.
Noctis was still crying, but they were in the city now, surrounded by refugees; he certainly wasn’t the only one. The noise didn’t draw any attention to them. Still, it hurt Ignis to listen to (emotionally; his body was unbothered), so he twisted around and wrestled Noct out of his sling, just grateful he was still here and well enough to scream. He gathered the baby in his arms and cuddled him close, letting him yell in his ear.
Over his own heaving breaths and Noct’s cries, Ignis could not hear Gladio’s own pants of exertion or fear or relief or whatever they might be, but once Noct was out of the way, he rested his sweat-streaked brow heavily against Ignis’ back, and he could feel his deep, carefully timed inhales and exhales.
Ignis was content to never do anything else for the rest of his life after the intensity of the hour, but Noct’s screams had softened into sobs, and the gentle sadness of the sound led Ignis out of his shock. Surviving was all good and well, but there was still more they needed to do, not least of which was feed and settle their small prince.
Raising his head to finally look around, Ignis said, “Lestallum. It seems we’ve made it.”
“Yeah,” Gladio replied, still sounding like he had not quite rejoined them there in reality. “‘Course. I knew we would.”
Arguing with him would get them nowhere, so Ignis settled for casting him a short glare over his shoulder, which he doubted Gladio even noticed. He was still leaning on Ignis’ back, although he’d laid his forearms across his shoulder blades for better support. As annoyed as he was at Gladio for so badly estimating their chances of getting to the city before dark, for taking such a blatant risk because… for what ever reason he had, he still felt guilt and gratitude for how much of himself Gladio had put on the line lately, and for all the weight he’d had to bear. He sighed and sat there like a stone, to be a rock for his partner for a few minutes, even if he had just nearly failed them. Gladio wasn’t stupid; he was wallowing in the consequences of his choices, berating himself for making such poor ones, if Ignis knew him at all. More than ever, when he’d done badly was when Ignis needed to comfort him.
He might blow up at him about it, but not when they were still so freshly unscathed.
Eventually Gladio did rouse from his fugue, squeezing Ignis’ shoulder in silent thanks for his patience. “Right. So, uh. Where now?”
“Off the back of this chocobo, for a start,” Ignis said without a moment of hesitation. “I’m quite surprised she hasn’t bucked us already.”
Gladio wiggled off the back of the bird, trying not to kick anyone else along the way. “Patience of a saint,” he said about her, patting her back as he stretched his legs. Once he was sure he was sure-footed, he took Noct so Ignis could slide down and stretch his own wobbly legs.
“Will you be going back to Dave then?” Ignis asked the chocobo. She didn’t respond with more than a blink, and when she started to preen the feathers they’d rumpled with their cross-country run, Ignis presumed she wasn’t itching to go. Maybe she would stick around until they handed the whistle back to her master.
The city was where they had wanted to be, but now that they were there, they had no energy for facing the crowds. It was truly a different world from the huddled masses of the rest stops and havens they’d stayed at before. The difference was in the sheer size and scale of the city. The old brick buildings of Lestallum towered overhead, and the lights made even the nighttime feel warm and inviting. Even from their position outside the city proper, they could see how many people were there because they wanted to be, not just because there was nowhere else. Lestallum had supposedly been a busy city even before the refugees recolonized it with their tents and sleeping bags. It didn’t hold a candle to Insomnia; true to its name, the capital had never slept. But Lestallum was a city of the capital’s heart, as much as its own. It lived and breathed with the many thousands of people milling about in its streets.
The idea of braving it that night was unappealing, to say the least. Ignis almost wished they were back on one of the quiet havens.
As if it was too much for both of them to crave the wilderness, Gladio looked to the city longingly. “Big place,” he said, searching across the city’s face like he could see through the buildings to the people hiding inside. “Our people are in there somewhere.”
“And do you propose to find them this evening?” Ignis asked. Sarcastically he suggested, “Perhaps Noct’s crying will draw them. We could wander the streets until they take notice.”
Gladio was distracted enough that when he glanced back at Ignis it was in surprise; it took him a moment to realize he’d been joking. His expression was mildly chagrined. “Yeah, guess it is kinda late,” he admitted. “We could just… hunker down here?”
“My pleasure,” Ignis replied. A parking lot wasn’t the nicest of accommodations, but it wasn’t worse than half the places they’d slept that week, and there was at least an overhang. He went around to Gladio’s backpack and pulled out the cooking pot and sleeping bags and started setting up their urban campsite, while Gladio stood there, holding Noctis and watching, a little bit slower on the uptake than Ignis, who was getting steadily more ready to end the damn day.
It wasn’t but a few more moments of Gladio staring and then looking back at the lights of the city before he sat down with Noct in his lap and started unloading his backpack for dinner. Over the course of the evening, Ignis often caught him glancing at the city’s main boulevard, like his mind was already wandering the streets. He just considered himself lucky that his feet didn’t follow just yet.
They ate, cleaned up, and then huddled into their sleeping bags; the chocobo stuck around, laying nearby and acting as a convenient windbreak. Aside from the proximity to their goal, the evening and subsequent night were much like any previous. The strangest thing was the sense of distraction that practically radiated from Gladio, as he hoped and dreamed and planned what he would do when they finally found someone to take orders from.
If Ignis had felt a little more introspective, he might have wondered why he wasn’t so full of anticipation.
Chapter Text
The soldiers had to sleep too, but in the morning they were out in the full force they hadn’t seen at night. The refugees took up more space outside of their tents as well. Altogether, the streets outside the city looked twice as crowded as when they had tried not to trample anyone on their way in, the previous night.
“Guess we should just… start looking?” Gladio suggested as they were finishing up breakfast, watching the throngs from a slight distance.
“The three of us together?” Ignis asked, skeptical. He eyed the soldiers standing around with their weapons on full display. They weren’t checking everyone who passed by; that would be implausible. But they were certainly watching the masses come and go, and even if each soldier’s perception was impeccably bad, the sheer numbers of them meant at least a few would notice the black-haired baby and his two young parents. Whether that meant any of them would figure out who they were, Ignis had no way of knowing, but the chances were higher the more they were seen, especially together.
Sleep had gotten Gladio’s head back in the game somewhat, so he understood what Ignis was and wasn’t saying. “I guess I’ll go. You okay hanging around here for a while?”
“If I’m not, I’ll take the chocobo for a jog,” Ignis replied, a little more sarcastic than he usually was; he was still a little irritated at Gladio for the gaffe of the previous evening.
Gladio gave him a look of mild concern (for himself, not for Ignis), but otherwise he began sorting through his backpack and picking out items to stuff into his pockets for the short trip. He left mostly everything with Ignis, only taking a snack and about half their gil. He looked with thoughtful disappointment at his leftover sword; the thing was anything but unobtrusive, despite being half the size of the companion they’d lost the night before. It would fit well enough on someone posing as a hunter, but it was bound to draw attention, so he left it with the rest of their belongings.
Ignis hoped desperately that they wouldn’t be getting into any trouble while they were in the city. He hoped to the gods that Gladio didn't have to fight any more soldiers. But knowing that it was a possibility, he hated the thought of Gladio going into uncharted territory without anything to defend himself (except for his fists, which he was proficient enough with; however, flesh simply didn’t compare to a blade).
“I know it’s a bit smaller than you’re used to,” Ignis said, handing him one of his own knives, the daggers Gladio had bought him in Longwythe. “Gods willing, you won’t need it, but I’d feel better if you had something.”
“Thanks,” Gladio replied, feeling somewhat the same. He cheekily added, “--babe,” a moment too late for it to be natural or even naturally teasing, but the effort didn’t go unappreciated.
“Of course, dear. See if you can’t come back before lunch.”
“Sure.” Gladio turned to leave, but stopped and cast a glance back at Ignis. “Hey, uh, if you do take the chocobo out, don’t go too far, okay?”
“We’ll stay close,” Ignis assured him, a combination of exasperated and endeared that was maybe just a little too much like a sitcom mother for his liking.
It was rather a boring morning after Gladio’s departure, but he supposed that was better than the alternative. He loaded their gear up on the chocobo, who seemed happy enough to keep following them, and then took a stroll around the main boulevard. (Ignis considered that she could run off at any moment, and then they’d really be out of luck. If they weren’t already in the city, he wouldn’t take the chance, but even if she left them stranded and without supplies, he didn’t think it would be more than inconvenient.) He started in the gas station, browsing their very picked-over wares, and not engaging the workers in the sort of conversation he might have done before. He wanted to maintain as much anonymity as possible until they had an idea what their situation was really like.
They wandered down to the overlook, which was busy with people trying to get a breath of fresh air. They zigzagged around tents in the parking area, glad that nobody had set up camp right at the edge. There were a few other chocobos standing or wandering around the crowd, so Ignis didn’t feel quite so out of place. He was glad he didn’t have to hide their new companion, though he wondered if having a chocobo might make him a target.
No matter, he thought. She’d be going back to Dave, soon. Or perhaps going back with him, if he showed up in Lestallum like he’d said he was planning to. He wondered if it would be easy to find him in the city, easier than it had been to track him down in the first place, or if the crush of people would make a few square miles more impossible than traversing a whole province.
Nobody bothered them as they walked, though Ignis got his fair share of looks from the people he passed. He supposed the chocobo really didn’t help, but he wondered how many of the people were just surprised to see a baby being carried by someone who wasn’t its mother. There weren’t more than a few soldiers down on the overlook, though, so if people stared at him, it wasn't really a problem. There were more soldiers as he headed back up to the boulevard, but most of them were stationed at the city’s main entrance, and at the mouth of the tunnel. Ignis was able to browse the food kiosks littering the street without drawing too much attention.
He headed back to their nearly-private parking lot before he and Noct were properly hungry, and set up the camping gear for lunch. He heated up the leftovers of what they’d brought from Coernix station, noting that they’d have to find a new source of food soon… and hunting probably wouldn't be a viable solution, this far from nature.
All the while, he tried not to wonder what Gladio was finding, or what the future would look like, any further than a few hours from then. It was easy enough, if he kept himself busy.
Noct seemed to enjoy not having anywhere to go. He became a little restless, though, like he could tell that maybe they’d settled down a little bit and he didn’t have to be on his best behavior anymore (not that he was before; Ignis imagined there really was no such thing for kids his age). He started fussing to get away from Ignis, not like when he’d sensed a spirit or anything (something else Ignis wished he didn’t have to think about, but knew that he probably ought ) , but just because he wanted to walk around on his own after so long of being coddled. So Ignis spread out their sleeping bags to create a little play-zone for him, and let him walk around.
He had mixed feelings about it. On one hand, it was nice not to have to hold him anymore, but on the other hand, he wasn't used to letting Noct explore his sense of independence in such a dangerous place. He had to remind himself that danger was relative, and that this could be the safest they’d be for the rest of their lives (or thereabouts). Sure, thinly-padded concrete was not the safest place for a toddler to stumble around, but it was better than most of the other options they’d had lately, and Noct needed to practice. His safety (on a national level) was paramount, but his development came in near the top of the remaining concerns.
Gladio returned right around the time Ignis considered lunchtime, based on the sun’s position. The first thing he said was,“No luck so far.” He sat down and helped himself to the pot of leftovers. “Place is packed like a can of sardines, but I was able to get around just enough to ask around at some of the shops.”
“What did you ask?” Ignis raised an eyebrow. “‘Have you seen any Crownsguard lately?’”
“Might’a been faster,” Gladio replied, smirking. “I don’t think any of the shopkeeps are Nif sympathizers. They all seem as pissed as anyone about this occupation. But no, I asked about hunting jobs. Then I asked if anyone else had offered. I figured if there was anything really dangerous, Crownsguard might be handling it, and if not, then the hunters who are might know about them.”
“And nobody else has offered to fight the fiends?”
“They have,” Gladio said. “Got a home address for a local hunter, but she wasn’t home when I went to meet her. I’ll have to check back later.”
“And hope you don’t have to track her down like you did Dave, especially considering you don’t know if she even knows anything.”
“It’s the best I’ve got.” Gladio shrugged. “You wanna have a go next?” The suggestion wasn’t challenging like it might have been if Gladio’s pride had gotten the better of him. He seemed to think Ignis might actually have luck with a different technique.
Ignis thought about it. “I’m not sure I should take Noct into such a crowd, if it’s as canned as you say it is.”
“I’ll take Noct,” Gladio suggested, like it was obvious, which… it should have been. Ignis just hadn’t even thought about handing Noct over and walking off, after the past week. It felt wrong. But he knew Gladio could handle the child, and he’d trusted him for short periods of time before, so why not a few hours? Was it that hard to relinquish his hold on the prince?
Although he’d started to get used to not physically holding him all the time, it did weigh on him to be away from Noct, when he left the baby with Gladio after lunch. He found himself fighting not to load Gladio with a long list of information about taking care of him. Gladio would know what to do if it came down to it; he had more childcare practice than Ignis did, he had to remember. It was just… this was Noctis. If Ignis didn’t watch him—
–he’d be fine. He had his shield with him.
It was the second half of the day when Ignis started his own search, and already he wasn’t sure what he was even looking for. Wading through the crowds began to feel like a dream, but the kind that shared DNA with a nightmare. It was uncomfortable to be so surrounded by refugees and soldiers, and not have Noct attached to his person. He felt like he was taking an exam he hadn’t studied for, which was one of his recurring nightmares. Or at least it had been, back before there were more serious concerns. It seemed the fear hadn’t left his brain entirely though, sticking around for a good metaphor.
He tried to think about it logically. He knew what Gladio did: he’d asked around like a hunter might, which made sense. It was what he knew. But what did Ignis know? He knew how to be… well, an outsider on the inside. Someone working for the crown who maybe never really deserved the position, never really fit in with the generations of loyal caretakers and the kids who’d been born to it, but still having to play the part. That probably wasn’t going to get him anywhere, unless he wanted to insinuate himself into the merchant class…
It wasn’t a bad idea. He’d never sold wares in his life; even this past week, Gladio had handled all the trading. But he was a quick study, and he had experience with acting like he belonged. He could play the part of a trader who was uprooted from his business in the city, both a business person and a refugee at the same time. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have any stock; he had the grand excuse of having lost it all in the flight from the city, or along the way. And he did have a chocobo, which spoke of some kind of wealth, or the need to transport goods.
Before he approached anyone, he straightened out his button-up overshirt as cleanly as he could, hoping to regain some of the professionalism he’d usually liked in his appearance.
“Excuse me,” he said to a street vendor selling meat kebabs, whose face fell when he realized Ignis wasn’t interested in buying lunch. “Is there a market around here?”
“Thataway,” the man said, gesturing quickly and going back to hawking his meat.
“My thanks,” Ignis said, although he didn’t think the man even heard him. Money wasn’t involved, so neither was he.
He made his way down the street he was pretty sure the man had been pointing to, keeping his senses peeled for signs of livelier activity, and eventually took a right into a wide-open area stuffed with stalls. He almost couldn’t walk, it was that thick with people. He took his time winding through the market (not that he had any other choice, having to follow the sluggish ebb and flow of the crowd), listening to the people haggling with the traders. The difference was slight enough, but he could tell which of the customers were locals and which were refugees from the kind of exasperation they spoke with. The locals were annoyed at the rise in prices and the scarcity of goods compared to the week before, while the refugees were bothered by the same things but with an air of tired desperation. The locals wanted a pound of lentils for 34 gil, not half a pound for 39. The refugees didn’t know how much a half pound of lentils went for, but they knew it was more than they could afford.
Ignis avoided the food sellers, even though he knew they’d probably have to do business with them at some point, if they were to stay more than another day. He lingered instead around the less busy stalls, selling various goods that were somewhat less in demand by hungry refugees. Knick-knacks and decorations had the worst luck, but kitchenware was next-worse.
“Not much market for glassware?” he asked casually, as the dish seller arranged his products to better catch the light.
The man’s eyes lit up like the crystal mugs hanging from the eave of his stall, but he quickly came back down to earth when he didn’t note any more than casual interest in Ignis’ expression. “Doesn’t travel well, I guess,” the man explained, dejected. He looked at Ignis a moment, and clearly could tell that he was neither a local nor one of the usual refugee masses. (Most of them passed him by anyway.) “I’d give ya a bulk discount, if you’re looking to resell. Bet you could sell water to a fish.”
Ignis resisted raising an eyebrow at the man. He wondered what made him think he was charismatic enough to convince people they wanted something they didn’t need, but he appreciated that the man had pegged him as a merchant right off the bat, and he was pretty sure the guy wasn’t just trying to flatter him.
“Would that I could,” Ignis said, “but I haven’t seen a single shopfront or warehouse for rent in this city, and the soldiers have been heckling anyone trying to sell goods on street corners.” That wasn’t strictly true, but he had seen them shuffling people along if they cluttered up the walkways for too long, so he imagined they wouldn’t like him selling plates on the sidewalk.
“You been looking to set up shop?” the salesman asked. Ignis just nodded instead of explaining himself; the less detail he provided, the more the shopkeep could fill in himself. The man thought for a moment, then said, “Kaye’s the one who manages most of the properties around here. You could ask her if there’s anything available.”
“Thank you,” Ignis said, trying to strike a balance between grateful and just a little haughty, as if a businessman like himself would have gotten along fine without the advice, eventually. “Where might I find this Kaye?”
The man pointed him in the right direction and wished him luck. “If you get set up and need some stock, the offer still stands.”
The property manager Kaye was to be found somewhere on the north side of town, opposite from the marketplace. Ignis took a back road that wound up the hill and toward the giant powerplant that edged the west side of the city. It was a little less busy there, but not enough to be anything like private, since plenty of other people had had the same thought. Still, he bumped shoulders with strangers less often, and there were nearly no soldiers to be found. Ignis supposed they didn’t really care what was happening back there, since there was no way in or out of the city that way. It certainly implied that they were keeping tabs on the comings and goings of the refugees.
He had to stop and ask locals a few times, but he eventually made his way to the alleyway where Kaye did her business. Her office was one of the many doors lining the graffittied walls. As Ignis passed them, he became incredibly curious as to the size of the rooms inside. Could the homes and businesses really be as small as they seemed from the way the entrances were packed together?
Finding the right building was frustrating, which Ignis thought might actually be a good thing, if they were thinking they might settle in here for a while. As irritating as it was to find this lady behind one of the many once-brightly-colored, faded, peeling doors, he hoped it would be equally annoying (and perhaps impossible) for ne’er-do-wells to find them if they were behind one.
Refugees were clustered here and there, even in the narrow alleyways, and they mostly ignored him as he passed, except when he had to step a little too close. It was the ones who glared at him suspiciously that he stopped and spoke to. They were obviously locals.
“I’m looking for Kaye,” he said, both explaining himself to avoid their ire, and hoping they might point him in the right direction. They usually did, sometimes taciturnly, sometimes with more helpful explanations of exactly which turns to take and how to figure out which was the right door, given that most of them weren’t numbered.
Finally he found himself at the door he thought was hers. He knocked. A few people loitering around watched him wait for an answer. No answer came. He looked around, careful to maintain that somewhat haughty expression. He sighed, as if annoyed (which he was, at least mildly), knocked again, and waited another few minutes. People passed back and forth, each looking at him in mild concern. Finally, although the door never opened, a woman approached him from the crowd.
“Looking for property?”
“Possibly,” Ignis said. “Are you Kaye?”
“Jennifer,” the woman replied, shaking her head. “Kaye’s busy. You know there’s a lot of people looking for a place right now. We can’t entertain every person who comes begging.”
“I have no intention of begging,” Ignis told her. “I was told Kaye managed most of the rental properties in the city. Residential or commercial?”
The question seemed like the right one, if Ignis wanted to be viewed as an idiot city-dweller. “We don’t bother making that distinction here,” Jennifer said. “Live there. Work there. As long as you don’t destroy the damn place.”
“How many properties do you have available?”
“Very few. That’s why you’re dealing with me, and not Kaye.” Jennifer looked him over, skeptical. “Our cheapest place is 2000 gil a fortnight. You don’t look like you can afford half the rent, no offense.”
“That seems high,” Ignis said, although as far as he knew, it wasn’t that much higher than rent for a decent commercial spot in Insomnia. But that was Insomnia, and near the palace too. “Don’t care for the common folk, eh?”
Jennifer glared at him. “We have plenty of care for the common folk, but that’s not how business works.”
“Of course not,” Ignis agreed. “But you’ll give the Empire a fair price, I imagine?”
The expression in Jennifer’s eyes hardened; it was a familiar look. “A fair price, sure. 4000 gil a fortnight, for Nifs and Nif sympathizers.”
Ignis found himself smiling genuinely. He’d always preferred to be polite, but it was interesting to see the results of pushing peoples’ buttons sometimes. It was a different tactic than the sort Gladio used. The one problem with finding out that people were vehemently on your side was the temptation to let them in on your dangerous secrets, which Ignis could not do, even if he had a reason to trust this woman or her cohorts. He decided he could be a little honest with her, at least.
“I apologize for doubting you, and I apologize for misleading you. I’m not actually in the market for property at the moment. I was separated from my business partners, and I thought they might have rented from you recently.”
Jennifer rolled her eyes and sighed. “Who are you looking for?” she asked, instead of asking why he didn’t bother saying that in the first place.
“I don’t know whose name they might be under,” he said honestly. “They’d have had no trouble paying your asking price though.”
She shook her head. “We’ve rented out tens of new places this week,” she said. “I don’t have time to take you on a tour of all of them. What kind of business? That might narrow it down.”
Apparently Ignis hesitated just a moment too long, having failed to come up with a backstory beforehand, and the woman shook her head. “Ok, nevermind, I don’t want to know if it’s something illicit.”
“Will you believe me if I tell you it’s of great import to the Lucian people?”
“No.” The woman thought for a moment. Then she looked at him again with scrutiny. “Your accent. You’re not Lucian, are you?”
“I am,” Ignis assured her. “Born and raised, if not bred. My family hailed from Tenebrae, once upon a time.”
“So you have no ties to the Empire?”
“Only the chains we’re all bound by, these days,” he told her, which seemed to be the right answer.
She seemed pleased by that response. Nodding, she said, “I’m doing a round of checks on the properties tomorrow. I won’t stop you from following me. Maybe you’ll find your partners.”
“Thank you,” Ignis said, relief flooding him. He agreed to meet her there in the morning, and went back towards their camp site.
The afternoon was wearing down by then, and though the sun was starting to set, it had done nothing for the heat. In fact, it seemed to be hotter than earlier in the day. The people were radiating warmth into an already muggy late-summer evening air, and the ground had had the whole day to bake. It was making people irritable, especially the Niflheim soldiers in their suits of armor. They were taking it out on people, shoving refugees around and uprooting them for no apparent reason. Ignis did his best to skirt all the bickering, but there was no good way of avoiding it all.
Gladio seemed to be doing better than the average, when he arrived back at their spot. He and Noctis had apparently made a few friends: several families with other little kids, who’d certainly gravitated to their spot because of the presence of the chocobo. Gladio was holding Noct in one arm, and steadying another young child on the chocobo’s back with the other, while their parents stood around and watched, as if this was the most fun any of them had had in weeks. Gladio seemed genuinely pleased about it too, much improved from his mood the previous night and even the days before, when he was fixated on finding whatever might remain of his family. This little distraction was much needed by all involved.
He grinned charmingly when he saw Ignis approach, turning Noct around so he could see him. It looked very natural, and it felt like coming home.
“Hey,” he called, when Ignis was within range. “Any luck?”
Obviously Gladio was not expecting a full rundown of exactly what he’d done in explicit detail, but he probably hoped Ignis had some good news for him. “A lead,” he said. “I’ll be touring some properties tomorrow. I see you’ve become quite popular.”
“Gih-gih!” Noctis said, reaching for Ignis at about the same time that Ignis naturally reached for him. Before Noct was even situated properly in his arms, Gladio leaned over and kissed Ignis on the mouth. It was over before Ignis had a chance to react, in part due to the chaste nature of it, but mostly because Ignis was lightly stunned by the completely un-telegraphed move. He was glad he had his back to most of the other families who were watching, because he was sure his reaction was not mundane enough for the number of years they were supposed to have been married. (Two years was enough for any couple to be rid of butterflies, wasn’t it?)
He had never been the sort of teenager to fret and fantasize about his first kiss, but behind all the other things that were going on in his mind, it occurred to him that this had been that, and that his first kiss would forever be under false pretenses, in a gas station parking lot.
It said something about the state of his life just then.
Ignis focused his attention on Noct instead of allowing himself to look at Gladio. “And were you well behaved for daddy?” he asked, smoothing Noct’s hair. He wasn’t looking at Gladio, but he still saw the glance he shot them, which was pleased and about as bewildered as Ignis had felt a moment ago.
“He’s always on his best behavior,” Gladio lied indulgently.
“And were you on your best behavior?” Ignis asked him teasingly. Inviting strangers to play with their chocobo seemed like the kind of thing someone might be very mildly peeved at their spouse about.
Gladio laughed, then leaned in just a little closer (though he kept one hand steadying the child on the bird’s back). “No thanks to you,” he muttered, his voice warm, not genuinely accusing. “Had a single mom almost refuse to take ‘I’m married’ for an answer. Being alone with a baby is dangerous.”
Well that explained the unexpected kiss, Ignis figured. “I haven’t had any troubles,” Ignis replied, though he figured there was a clear reason for that: Gladio was intensely attractive, while Ignis was… conventionally adequate.
“Huh, well they can probably tell you’re too loyal to cheat.”
“And you’re not?” Ignis asked, displeased at even voicing the question for a joke. He never doubted Gladio’s true loyalty, but when it came to his loyalty to Ignis as a fake spouse… he would rather not think about it.
“The tattoo throws ‘em off,” Gladio said, referencing the outline of the eagle that he had started getting across his shoulders and arms a few months back. “Anyway, it’s not obvious that we’re married when people see us alone. We really oughtta look into getting replacement wedding rings.”
“Because we left ours in the city,” Ignis surmised. “Right. What a shame, too. The platinum scrolling on the gold band was so lovely, I’m sure we’ll never find another like it.”
Gladio smirked at him, accepting the possibly impossible challenge. Even if they could ever find something that fit that description, by the time they could afford it, their ruse would probably be over.
“Guess you’ll just have to stick by my side,” Gladio said, nudging him.
“Oh, I suppose I could be bothered,” Ignis joked. He looked around at the assembled families, waiting their turn for a chocobo ride, or just enjoying watching the large beast. There hadn’t been many of them on the streets of Insomnia, cars being so ubiquitous. This was probably the first time some of these people had seen one up close. “You have rather a lot of other people by your side right now,” he added.
Gladio laughed. “Yeah, I’m not sure how that happened, but I couldn’t tell a kid no, and here we are. Priscilla doesn’t seem to mind.”
“Is that her name?” Ignis asked quietly, wondering why he hadn’t known.
“Well they wanted to know, so I had to come up with something,” Gladio muttered in return. “It’s Prissy for short.”
Indeed, ‘Prissy’ seemed as happy as ever, carting kids around the small parking lot. She did a few laps in one direction, then turned around and did a few in the other, her speed guided by Gladio, who stayed at her shoulder. Then the kid would get off and run back to their parents, and another little family would come up and deposit their small child on the bird’s back.
Ignis wondered if they ought to charge for it. Taking money from refugees was generally out of the question, but everyone needed to eat. Instead of asking the families directly, he left Gladio to his post as chocobo taximan and went to set up the cook pot for dinner, conspicuously adjacent to the families clustered around. After theirs was set up, he eyed a group that had a fair amount of gear with them and called, “say, you wouldn’t happen to have another pot, would you? Ours isn’t quite large enough to feed everyone.”
The request surprised the family, but they brought over their spare pot and pan, and immediately asked what else they could do to help with dinner. Before long they had most of the nearby families digging through their meager belongings for cookware and canned goods, root vegetables, ramen packets, and anything else that could be used for soup or stir-fry. Those who didn’t have anything to add typically felt guilty enough that they quickly went off to look for water or kindling.
It was nothing like a festival, but with the organization and cheer and children’s laughter, it was certainly closer than any of them were likely to get in the near future. If Ignis were a real parent, he thought it might be easy to imagine that he had just brought his kid to a cookout, to enjoy the evening air and the company of other families. Hopefully the other families felt that way, at least for a little while.
Noct seemed to be cautiously enjoying himself, as other parents carried their babies over to say hi. Ignis wondered if he’d ever really met another child before– a child his age, at least, and not fourteen years his senior. There’d been daycare services at the palace, but he doubted Noct had been enrolled in them. At best, he might have spent time with his nursemaids’ children. It sort of bothered him that he didn’t know.
But that was all behind them anyway, so much so that it may as well not exist. They were all starting a new life, and maybe tomorrow they would start building that life in the city proper, and Noct would have more than two clueless would-be fathers.
Ignis forced himself to put it from his mind and enjoy the makeshift festivities. He watched Gladio cheerfully leading little kids around on choco-back, holding Noct when he insisted Ignis have a break, looking every bit the father he was pretending to be.
It might be the last time Ignis ever saw that, he realized.
Putting it from his mind was easier said than done. At least none of the other parents called him out on his distraction, and Gladio just cast him sympathetic looks from time to time. He probably thought it was the socializing that was tiring him; Ignis didn’t intend to tell him otherwise.
Chapter Text
In the morning, they both rose with more purpose than they’d had the day before, and a different sort of purpose than when they’d been on the move. It felt a little like being back home, getting up for work or school in the morning. The biggest difference, aside from having slept outside on asphalt and not showering before he left, was that he’d never taken his son with him to school or work.
“I heard the hunter I’m looking for is usually home in the morning,” Gladio said as he got ready to face the day, washing his face with a little of the clean water they had left in their pot from the night before. “Watch Noct til I get back?”
It was clear that Gladio had expected the answer to be such an obvious yes that the question was nearly rhetorical, but what Ignis actually said was, “I can’t. I’m meeting the property manager this morning.”
Gladio stared at him, surprised. They hadn’t really talked in detail about their plans the night before, after the impromptu party had wound down. “Oh. That complicates things.”
“I suppose one of us will have to take him with us,” Ignis said, not loving the idea of bringing Noct so close to any of the Empire soldiers, even if they weren’t likely to recognize him.
“Rock paper scissors?” Gladio joked.
Ignis shook his head, and rolled his eyes. “I’ll take him. Wouldn’t want you to be waylaid by all those single mothers, after all.”
“Hey, I’ve still got the knife you gave me,” Gladio replied. “They wouldn’t be any trouble.”
“Dear,” Ignis sighed, exaggerated. “We don’t need any more orphans to take care of.”
They headed out soon after that, although both having business in the same area of the city, they didn’t part ways until they felt the gaze of the soldiers falling too heavily on the trio of them. Gladio squeezed Ignis’ shoulder as he split off into the crowd.
It was easier to find Kaye’s place the second time, although he still got turned around a bit, and had to take it at a slower pace so that he didn’t bump Noctis into any walls. But he made it there apparently only a few minutes after Jennifer had arrived.
“I’m sorry, I hope you weren’t waiting long,” Ignis said. He belatedly realized he might have sounded a little less business-hardened than he’d been acting the day before, and then realized the image was probably ruined by his carrying a small child around anyway.
Jennifer didn’t seem to judge him for his mild tardiness. When her eyes caught Noctis and his cautious expression as he looked around the crowded alley, she softened. “I promised I’d take you,” she said, adding, “Anyway, I understand.”
Ignis imagined she meant she understood being late with a toddler. He wondered if she had any kids, but didn’t want to act too familiar by asking. Instead he thanked her and they got on their way back down the alley from whence he’d come. (The other way was one of the city’s many dead ends, which probably weren’t built to confuse invaders, but almost certainly would.) She led him around the labyrinthine streets, occasionally telling him some detail or another about the history or architecture of that part of the city.
When they reached each property, she told him whether it was one that had been occupied before the invasion, or one that might house the business partners he was looking for. Either way, she had him stand across the street and pretend to be a part of the crowd. The tenants didn’t need to be distracted by someone they didn’t recognize, let alone holding a baby. She didn’t say that part, but Ignis inferred that his presence would complicate an otherwise routine inspection.
Jennifer talked to each group of tenants for a few minutes, apparently asking if there was anything wrong with the buildings; did the power work?; the water?; were the neighbors causing any trouble?; did anything need repaired? Then (with the promise that those issues would be handled, and rent would be paid on time), they moved on to the next location. It wasn’t the worst way to spend a morning. It actually felt quite a lot like tailing the king’s advisor for training, which Ignis had done several times, following the man along as he handled tedious political minutiae.
They stopped a few times as Jennifer apparently decided she wanted a drink or something to eat, at which point she offered a bite or a sip to Noctis. Ignis got the impression that the woman was a softie when it came to kids. As she and Noctis shared a kebab, she said, “So I guess you haven’t seen them yet. Are you sure they’re here?”
“I’m fairly sure they’re in the city somewhere,” he said. “And I’m fairly sure they would be off the streets if at all possible.”
“Could they be staying with friends, or at a hotel?”
He shook his head. “That I don’t know.”
They were nearby the Leville hotel anyway, so they stopped by, and Jennifer chatted with the clerk about water line breakages while Ignis loitered in the lobby just to see if anyone familiar came or went. Without knocking at all the doors, though, there was no way of really knowing if the Crownsguard were renting a room. Ignis resisted asking the clerk, which would have required giving descriptions of any of the people who might have checked in.
They moved on, continuing to wind down nearly every road in the city, except for the marketplace and the street adjacent to the powerplant. Nobody looked familiar to Ignis; the faces began to blur together as the day wore on, his loss of attention to detail probably indicating that he was growing tired. The crush of people really wore on him, more than traveling long miles in relative solitude.
But it wasn’t long past lunch time when one of the tenants finally caught his attention; or rather, he caught theirs. It wasn’t that he had stopped paying attention, but the stress of the week had caught up to him and left him a little slower on the uptake than someone who was able to avoid stressing too much. So it was that the adult who came to the door did not immediately look familiar to Ignis, and neither did the little girl, who he hadn’t looked terribly close at before mentally writing them off as “not-Crownsguard”. He tried to tell himself that he would have kept looking, and he probably would have realized who they were a few moments later, but Iris beat him to the punch.
“Ignis?” the girl asked, staring at him from across the street. Her face lit up when he met her gaze. “Ignis! And Prince Noctis!”
Both Ignis and the adult standing by Iris’ side, a woman he’d met a few times but didn’t really know, froze in fear at Iris’ slip. But Ignis hurriedly closed the distance between them, smiling down at the girl. “Princess Iris,” he replied. “You’re just who I was looking for.”
A sideways glance at Jennifer showed his bluff had worked. She didn’t seem any more surprised than she should be, that Ignis had found the people he was looking for after all.
Iris’ attendant seemed unsure who she should be addressing, suddenly, approached by two different parties. She chose Ignis as the most pressing matter, given that he was holding the heir apparent to the throne. She looked like she was halfway to reaching out for Noct. “It’s such a relief to see you! Please, come inside! The others will want to see you straight away.” She turned to Jennifer and said, “I’m so sorry, what can I do for you?”
“I just came to see if everything was going alright, maintenance-wise.”
The aid looked a little panicked at the thought that Jennifer might want to come inside to check. “Yes, everything’s perfect, thank you!”
“Yes, thank you,” Ignis repeated. “You may have saved us from sleeping in a parking lot for weeks.”
“My pleasure,” Jennifer said, and she did seem happy to have helped– to have helped Noctis, if not Ignis. “Good luck with your ‘business endeavors’.” She turned to the assistant again, as Ignis was following an exuberant Iris inside. “Let me know if you have any problems, alright?”
Through the door, Iris led him into a dimly lit interior. The thin hallway led on for maybe fifteen or twenty feet before becoming a junction. Iris turned right, turned left, turned right again, then opened the door on the right, without knocking. Monica Elshett looked up from the small table she’d been writing at, vaguely displeased until her eyes lit on Ignis, and Noct in his arms.
“Oh, thank the gods,” she said softly, pushing up from the table and coming to greet them. She laid a hand on Ignis’ elbow, the other on Noct’s back. “He isn’t hurt, is he?” she asked, looking between the two of them.
“Mostly dirty,” Ignis told her.
“I can imagine,” she replied. She didn’t try to take him out of Ignis’ arms, but she turned him this way and that so she could look him over enough to satisfy for the time being. “How did you get here? Nobody knew what had happened to the prince. It was a trying time for everyone.”
“We came by foot, primarily,” he said. “A hunter called Dave lent us his chocobo for the last leg.”
“Dave Auburnbrie,” Monica guessed. “He helped us here days ago.”
Ignis felt a tug on his shirt and looked down to see Iris staring up at him, biting her lip. “Have you seen my dad or brother?”
He wondered if they hadn’t heard the news about Regis (and therefore Clarus), or if the adults had decided not to tell her. “I haven’t seen your father, no, but your brother should be nearby.”
“He’s here?!” Iris looked at him with stars in her eyes. Then she looked over at Monica, pleading. “We have to go find him!”
Monica shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry, Iris. It’s best to stay in here for now. We’ll make contact with Gladiolus soon, alright?”
Iris clearly tried to rein in her pout, but it was still pretty strong. “Ok, Miss Monica. Can I look out the front window though?”
“Go ahead.”
Iris took off like a shot, probably hoping that she would see Gladio pass by if she kept watch. Monica gave him a smile over her antics, but it faded back to her usual sort of professionalism quickly. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but His Majesty has fallen to the Empire.”
“I did hear,” Ignis said, frowning. “But I also heard that the prince was dead, and I know for a fact that that is a lie. Isn’t it possible that Regis still lives as well?”
Monica breathed in and held it for a moment. “I would like to say you could be right, but unfortunately, no. Our sources say that the king is dead.”
Ignis sighed and bowed his head. It wasn’t a surprise, but he’d still hoped… For Noct’s sake, if not the country’s.
“Do you know what that means, Ignis?”
He shook his head. “It means any number of things,” he replied. “It means Clarus is dead.”
“Yes. And Weskham Armaugh. The king, his advisor, and his shield.” She looked hard at him, almost as though she was searching him. “It means you’re the new advisor to the crown, Ignis.”
“Do you think that’s likely to be relevant any time soon?” he asked, aware that he sounded a little accusing and skeptical. “That we’ll retake the crown city and a regent will be installed?”
She ducked her head, as if she knew it was a stupid thing to imply. “Perhaps not in the crown city, no. But the fact that Prince Noctis is alive means that the line of Lucis will rule again, one day.”
“And I will be by his side on that day,” Ignis said. “I will be by his side until that day. But I think there are bigger concerns than who advises whom right now. Noct hasn’t had a bath in over a week. He’s eaten little more than thin soup and packaged junk food. He’s slept without a roof over his head most nights. And even now there is the threat of being found by the Empire.”
A strained smile came over her face. “You’re right,” she said, and Ignis fought the feeling that she might already be deferring to him. “Now is not the time to discuss this. We should get him fed and cleaned.”
“Thank you,” Ignis said, sighing in relief.
Monica led the way out of the room which presumably functioned as her office, and down more turning corridors. “How many of our people have found you?” he asked as he followed her, thinking that the place seemed awfully big, compared at least to where they’d been staying since they left the capital.
“Not nearly enough,” she told him. “We’ve got about twenty living in this building. Several have already moved on to other towns to keep watch there. A few reported in just before asking to be released from their duties. But most of our people, I’m afraid, never made it out of the city.” She turned to look over her shoulder. “We thought you might be among them. It’s such a relief that you’re okay.”
Monica led them to a tiled room that looked mostly like a kitchen, where two women Ignis vaguely recognized were hand-washing laundry. On the other side of the room, pots of what looked and smelled like food bubbled. The women looked up at Monica when she entered, but their gazes quickly moved to the newcomer and his small child– who they soon recognized.
“Prince Noctis!” they cried, rushing to see him.
Smiling at them like she understood, Monica said, “I know you’re busy, but I’d like the two of you to care for the prince. He’ll need dinner and a bath. I’ll try to source some new clothes for him.”
“Of course, ma’am,” the women said, one coming to take Noct from Ignis’ arms. He pulled away as she laid her soapy hands on him.
“I can hold him while you finish what you were doing,” Ignis said, a pang of displeasure jolting through him.
“Oh no, that can wait,” the woman said cheerfully. “The prince is far more important.”
“You can at least dry your hands first,” Ignis responded. “I really don’t mind.”
The maid shook her head at him as if he was being silly, and grabbed Noct more firmly. “It’s fine. We’re going straight to the tub anyway.”
Ignis could have held on, he had no doubt, but the woman’s insistence upon divesting him of his charge made him loosen his hold, and she was soon hurrying away with the baby, followed almost giddily by her coworker.
“I’ll help–” Ignis began, starting to follow after them, but Monica stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Ignis, I need you to find Gladio. For Iris’ sake, if nothing else. She’s been worried sick, and I’m afraid she knows about her father, despite not being explicitly told.”
Instinct was pushing Ignis to follow Noct, as if a thread were tied from the child and looped around his heart. But Monica’s words did get his attention. “He’s been worried about her too,” he said, sighing in resignation about where he was needed at the moment. “I’m sure he’ll want to see her as soon as possible.”
She nodded, but said, “I don’t want any of you out by yourselves any longer. It’s a miracle enough that you found us. Please wait at the front door. I’ll have Jared accompany you.”
He wanted to protest (again, again) and tell her that he’d gotten by quite well enough on his own so far, but he supposed he didn’t mind the man coming along. He was a kindly older man affiliated with the Amicitias, and Ignis had worked with him somewhat often in the palace.
“Alright,” he said dutifully, and went to wait where he’d come in, feeling a stiffness in his limbs that strongly rivaled holding Noctis in his arms all day, but without the benefit of the security his closeness brought.
Iris was staring out the small window in the front door, standing on her toes with her face almost pressed to the glass, and didn’t notice him approaching until he was nearly behind her. She startled and turned to him with big eyes.
“Ignis! Is Gladdy okay? Did you guys escape together?”
“He’s well,” he told her. “And yes, we followed the crowd out of the city. It was a long walk, but he helped keep us safe.”
“You walked?” she asked, incredulous. “The whole way? We took a car.”
Ignis guessed that was probably why he hadn’t seen them at Hammerhead. They’d probably driven straight to the next stop. “Well, thank you for readying this place for us.”
“Oh, I haven’t done anything,” she said, sounding a little disappointed. “I’ve only been outside once. Miss Monica doesn’t want anyone going around the soldiers, and they’re all over the place.”
“I’ve noticed,” Ignis said.
“So, are you waiting for Gladdy too?” Iris asked, scooting over to make room for him to look out the window too.
“Miss Monica has asked me to fetch him,” he told her. “I’m waiting for Jared to accompany me.”
“I wish I could go with you!” she said, just shy of whining. She was a fairly polite and patient girl, but she still was only eight, and this was a lot for anyone to handle.
Ignis patted her on the head, which surprised her and then surprised him when he realized he’d done it. It was something he’d gotten used to doing with Noct during the long hours of carrying him around. He didn’t apologize for it though, because she didn’t seem bothered. In fact, it seemed like maybe she liked the contact, and Ignis guessed it reminded her of the way her brother treated her. “He’ll be here soon, have no worries.”
“Okay,” she said, somewhat mollified. “If anyone can find him, it’s you, since you’re best friends.”
He opened his mouth to make some kind of protest or question, because, well, why would she think something like that? Gladio was far too charismatic not to have better friends than Ignis, especially when they’d really only started spending time together a year or so before. But Jared came around the corner and bowed to the two of them.
“Miss Iris. Master Ignis. I’m pleased to see you found your way to us. Miss Elshett apprised me of the situation. I’ll accompany you to find Master Gladiolus.”
“Is Talcott going with you?” Iris asked, trying to decide whether she was going to have to be jealous or not.
Jared smiled kindly. “I’m afraid not, to his disappointment. Perhaps you could keep him company while we’re away?”
“It may be several hours,” Ignis added.
Although Iris clearly wished that Jared would go against Monica’s instructions and take her with them, she seemed happy to have a task to see to. She nodded and ran off to find the younger boy and entertain him in the absence of his grandfather.
“Shall we?” Jared said, opening the door for Ignis as soon as Iris was out of the way.
Jared let Ignis take the lead and didn’t bother asking him where they were going, or give suggestions about how to accomplish their task. Ignis appreciated that about him. He was a constant and supportive type, like Ignis might have been with a little more training and, admittedly, a little less ego. But it worked, because Ignis knew exactly where to find Gladio, if not when. He led them back to their little camp site next to the gas station at the edge of the city, where the recently-named Priscilla was luckily still waiting for them. Gladio was not, but Ignis had not expected him to be. He just hoped that the young man hadn’t come back and seen they were not there, and then decided not to wait. Either way, he would almost certainly be back before sunset.
Even though Jared was supportive and didn’t invite himself to second guess Ignis’ plans, he was not the silent servant type. He saved his conversation for when it was necessary or appropriate, but he wasn’t shy about speaking openly.
“I gather you and Master Gladiolus were traveling together this past week?”
Mindful of the fact that anyone could be listening, including any number of the families they’d become casual acquaintances with the previous night, Ignis replied, “Yes, Gladio and Noct and myself. We were both with Noct when the attack happened. We’d hoped to find the rest of the family sooner, you know, but our lead took us on a bit of a journey.”
“I see,” Jared said, and Ignis could only hope that he really did. He would explain everything in great detail later, but Jared probably understood wanting to be discreet when out in public. “It’s good that Noct was with two such reliable caretakers.”
It probably wasn’t necessary to try to explain their story to Jared at this point, when there was no harm in waiting until he didn’t have to speak in half-riddles to do so, but there was a sort of relief about being able to talk to someone who understood who he really was, and would understand that the person he’d become over the past two weeks was to serve an important purpose.
“As his parents, neither Gladio nor I would ever let anything happen to Noct.” He looked at Jared’s expression, but it betrayed almost no surprise or confusion. “I really count myself lucky that Gladio takes his role as seriously as I do. We’ve seen many a single parent struggling recently.”
Jared hummed. “He’s a lucky child, to have two people who care for him so much.”
“I don’t mean to imply that the rest of the family doesn’t care for him equally,” Ignis added, not wanting to offend the rest of the Crownsguard or imply that he and Gladio were more important than them. “But these past weeks have cemented a feeling that has been growing since I first laid eyes on him.”
Jared nodded sagely. “I know exactly what you mean.”
Ignis didn’t doubt it. He knew how much the old man cared for his grandson, Talcott, and how afraid he probably was for the boy’s safety as they fled the crown city. Still, he imagined that carrying the helpless infant crown prince through deserts and marshes and scraped-together meals did not quite compare.
Because Gladio could still be out for several more hours, Ignis suggested they get comfortable waiting, and convinced Jared to sit on Priscilla’s back as the best alternative to a soft chair they could find. He explained in slightly greater detail how they’d gone looking for Dave and struggled to find him, and all the hunting and scavenging they’d done on the way, both for their own sake and for the sake of the people they’d been trying to help, if they could.
“You’re setting a good example,” Jared said kindly. “Things will undoubtedly be different from now on, but with you and …Gladio leading the charge, I know we’ll all make it through.”
“I rather thought it was Monica and Dustin leading the charge,” Ignis said.
Jared nodded, but it wasn’t quite an agreement. “They are senior members of… the family, as you said, but they have never been in line to take on the roles that have been left empty recently. I have no doubt we would be lost without them, and they are leaders in their own right, but ultimately they refer to a higher authority– an authority that was meant to pass to you, and to… Gladio, in time. That time has come, even if we’re not ready for it.”
Ignis’ head dropped, suddenly too heavy for his neck with all the thoughts it held, all the responsibilities. “I’d expected another decade to prepare. I’d expected more time to study the relationships between our countries before anyone looked to me for advice regarding them.” He turned his heavy head to Jared, wondering if he had any clue. “I wasn’t told that we were at odds with Niflheim. I’d been under the impression the peace treaty still held. But it can’t have been a complete surprise.” He lowered his voice. “Surely the court knew? If I’d been told, maybe I could have prepared, or at least–”
Jared shook his head sadly. “It does no good to speculate. We can’t change the past. We have to move forward, and keep safe what we still have.”
Noct. “Of course,” Ignis said. “We have… our family’s future to think of.”
“Have you?” Jared asked. “Thought of the future?”
“I… expected someone else would have,” Ignis admitted.
“I’m sure they have,” Jared said. “But that doesn’t mean the future is decided. You have some say in it as well. You have more say in it than you might have realized.”
“I’m realizing that now,” Ignis said with a faint smile.
They sat in companionable quiet for a while then, as Ignis ruminated on the possibilities which the future might hold, and Jared enjoyed the soft breeze and chocobo down. The sun was heading for the horizon, casting the boulevard in Lestallum’s growing shadow, when Gladio appeared from the crowd. His expression changed a handful of times as he neared, likely noticing Ignis, then Noct’s absence, then Jared still sitting side saddle upon Priscilla’s back.
“Jared!” he called when he came in range, hustling over in his excitement to see the closest thing to family he’d yet seen since the attack. He glanced over at Ignis, his smile more exuberant than it had been for days, a smile reserved for reunions. “I guess that means you found them then, huh.”
“He did indeed, Mas–... Gladio,” Jared said, barely correcting himself before the incriminating term ‘master’ could slip from his lips.
“Iris. Is she with you?” Gladio asked, turning back to Jared with a painful hope in his eyes.
Jared smiled with his whole face as he said, “She’s safe, and waiting to meet you.”
They wasted no time packing up what little was left of their campsite and saying a quick goodbye to Priscilla. “Thanks for the help, girl,” Gladio said, patting her neck. “We’ll get your whistle back to Dave soon. Just take care ‘til then.”
Ignis wasn’t sure how much chocobos understood, but she gave a happy little ‘kweh’ and walked off toward the edge of town, presumably to go back to whatever life she held when she wasn’t needed.
They headed back into town just as the lights were coming on and Lestallum’s evening atmosphere attempted to turn festive despite the refugees still crowding the streets, and their downtrodden attitudes. The two of them followed Jared, who had a better sense of the city than Ignis had managed to acquire yet. He imagined the older man was sent out on errands regularly, being the least conspicuous of the Crownsguard lot.
When they reached the alley where the door to their new home sat, Ignis didn’t have to struggle to remember which nondescript door was theirs. It blew open in a storm of Iris as soon as they came within sight, the young girl launching herself at Gladio at a speed that could rival Priscilla.
“Gladdy!” she yelled, laughing in joy and relief. Gladio caught her in his arms and spun her around, grinning. Behind them, little Talcott lingered in the door, and then rushed out into his grandpa’s arms when he saw that nobody had admonished Iris for leaving the house.
Ignis only had a few moments to watch the reunions and feel happy for them but still mildly awkward, because soon one of the two women from the kitchen appeared at the door looking hopeful and worried. “Master Ignis! Please, could you help us!”
Ignis was through the door immediately, worried that something was wrong with Noct. The woman seemed distraught, and Ignis’ mind raced through every possibility. Was Noct sick? Had he gotten hurt somehow? He would have asked, but they were hurrying through the corridors at enough speed that there wasn’t time, once he got his head about him.
The maid had led him to a bedroom, inside of which were Noct and the older of the two women. He’d known Noct was in there before they’d even turned into the corridor, because of his howling wails. When they entered the room, the maid looked up at them with the expression of one who had been fighting a dangerous but endangered beast which they were not allowed to cause harm to.
“Master Ignis! The prince has been inconsolable for hours! Please, you must have a trick to calm him. He was so quiet when you came in!”
Ignis couldn’t help but smile as he came forward to pick Noctis up out of the crib they’d set him in. He didn’t know entirely why the boy’s screams were a relief to him, just that he felt a bit vindicated.
“Let me have a look,” he said, gathering Noct into his arms while the ladies watched in anticipation. Noct’s cries didn’t cease immediately, but there was a clear recognition in his eyes, and he held onto Ignis like a lifeline. His desperate screams calmed slightly, down to hiccupping sobs and gasps, then to sniffling whines, until he was able to mumble “gih-gih” between his little moans of displeasure.
“I don’t understand why he was so upset,” the older woman said helplessly. “He was fine throughout his bath and dinner, but when I tried to lay him down to rest, he had a fit.”
Clearly, in Ignis’ opinion, Noct had been distracted while there was water or food available, but finally let his displeasure be known as soon as there was nothing to draw his attention. And he was displeased, most likely, because of the sudden change in scenery, as well as, perhaps, caretaker.
“He’s become used to being held, these past weeks,” Ignis said instead, not wanting to make the woman feel bad just because Noct wasn’t comfortable with her.
“We tried holding him,” the other woman said. “We walked him, we bounced him, we tried to play with stuffed toys. We even brought him to Monica, hoping she might know how to calm him. He stopped crying when we gave him more food, but eventually even that wasn’t enough.”
It was a struggle for Ignis not to look smug that none of their techniques worked. He almost wanted to tell them they should have asked before whisking him away from the only family he’d had those few weeks, but that fault didn’t lie entirely with them, since it had been Monica who’d instructed them.
“I appreciate your efforts,” Ignis said diplomatically. “But perhaps I’d better mind him for a while.”
The two maids clearly noted how Noct was nuzzling sleepily into Ignis’ shoulder, letting out only the mildest of whimpers. “Of course,” they said, bowing and backing away slowly, as if any sudden movements might wake the beast. “We’ll report to Monica.”
They left him there in the quiet of the bedroom, where finally some of the tension melted from him. He sat down heavily in an old armchair that was next to the crib they’d tried to lay Noct in. Ignis eyed the thing. He had a feeling it was going to be a fight to get Noct to sleep in it, and it wasn’t a fight he was adamant about taking on.
Regardless, it wasn’t Noct’s new bedtime yet, which had become whenever he and Gladio finally decided to sleep. He knew that wasn’t best for small children, who needed a lot more sleep than their adult counterparts, but it was what Noct had gotten used to, so laying him down just then would have seemed wrong to him. If someone wanted to fix his sleep schedule, they’d have to do it gradually. Noct cuddled against him drowsily, but since he didn’t want to be laid down, Ignis took him out into the hallway, where he hoped to track down someone who could appoint him his own bed for the evening, as well as the other basic needs he was interested in filling.
He met Gladio coming his direction, followed closely by Iris, then tailed by Jared and Talcott. “You found him. What was wrong?”
Laughing, Ignis said, “Nothing unusual for a toddler, I don’t think. He’s fine now.”
“Looks like it,” Gladio said, eyeing the both of them with what Ignis thought looked like appreciation. Well, he liked the look of Gladio holding Noct, so maybe Gladio felt something similar, particularly if Noct wasn’t screaming.
“What are we gonna do with him?” Iris asked, looking wide-eyed at the sleepy baby.
“We’re going to take care of him,” Ignis replied. “There’s nothing else to do with a baby.”
“But he’s the prince,” Iris said, as if maybe they’d all forgotten. “He’s not just any baby. He’s special.”
“True,” Gladio said, looking down at her with a gentleness rarely seen. “But even a special baby mostly needs to be fed and held and rocked to sleep.”
Iris’ eyes lit up with an idea. “Can I help?” she asked, bouncing.
Gladio glanced at Ignis with a somewhat torn expression, but he let Ignis make the call. “I appreciate the offer, but there isn’t much to help with,” he told her, hoping it was a gentle letdown. “He’s already been fed, apparently. Now I just need to find where we’ll be sleeping.”
“They found a crib for him,” Iris said helpfully, pointing down the hall.
“I’m afraid they already tried that,” Ignis said, smiling in a way that was hopefully not too smug. “For tonight I think he’ll be most content to sleep next to me.”
Not wanting to interrupt, Jared had hung back and let them talk, but he came forward with the relevant information then. “I can show you to your rooms, Master Ignis, Master Gladiolus.”
The crowd of them followed him, almost single-file, through more narrow maze-like corridors, until they reached a small room dedicated to Ignis’ usage. It was hardly bigger than either of Dave’s shacks, and about as sparsely furnished, but if nothing else the sky couldn’t be seen through the cracks in the walls.
“Thank you, Jared,” Ignis said, sitting on the bed. It was full of springs, but not immediately uncomfortable. Without a doubt it would be better than a sleeping bag barely padding damp concrete.
“My pleasure, Master Ignis.” Jared turned to Gladio and nodded along the hall. “I’ll show you to your room, Master Gladiolus. Afterward, Monica would like a word with you.”
Gladio said thanks, then tossed a casual, almost sarcastic salute at Ignis. “Catch up with you later. Let me know if you need help with Noct.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Ignis said, standing so he could close the door behind the group as they left. He stood there for a moment, listening to their footsteps retreat. Then he took Noct over to the bed and laid him down on the inside edge, blocking the open side with his own body. He breathed a deep sigh, as Noct huffed his own sleepy whine and rolled over onto his stomach to get comfortable. Ignis laid an arm over him softly.
It was a little early yet for bed, and there was still some sort of dinner to find or make. Furthermore, it seemed that there were a lot of things that needed to be discussed, things that the more senior members of the Crownsguard had already put some thought into. Despite the rush to get to Lestallum, he knew that wasn’t going to be the new Crown City, the seat of whatever government they still had or would unearth from the rubble, and they needed to know as soon as possible where their final landing-space would be. He and Noct would just lay there for a few minutes, before pursuing those important matters.
The both of them fell asleep instead. Ignis justified it to himself later: they were tired, and it had been a very long two weeks. Anyway, he was allowed to be wrong sometimes.
Chapter Text
When Ignis woke, it was to Gladio peeking his head inside the room. He’d already knocked, Ignis realized sleepily, but it had only half roused him. “Oh. Gladio. What time is it?” he asked. He was very disoriented. It was as if days or weeks could have passed, especially without any windows in the room (which made for some deep sleeping, apparently).
“Just after dark,” Gladio said. He looked Ignis over and apparently could see the confusion radiating off of him. “Been about an hour and half.”
“I see,” Ignis said, mostly as a rote response. “Did you speak with Monica?”
“Yeah.” Gladio ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that implied he was stressed or preoccupied. “I think she wants to talk to us together, probably tomorrow.”
“Good that she doesn’t need to speak to us tonight. She’d have to come to us; I believe Noct’s out for the count, and I can’t in good conscience leave him here.”
“Yeah, I thought so,” Gladio said, his smile soft. “So, can I bring you dinner?”
It hadn’t occurred to Ignis to be hungry (it had barely occurred to him to be awake), but food did sound good, and moreover he knew it would be necessary before too long. “I would appreciate it greatly, dear,” Ignis replied, catching himself off guard with the obsolete pet name.
Gladio’s smirk was not subtle. “You got it, babe,” he replied, disappearing into the hallway.
Ignis sighed at himself. Speaking to Gladio like a spouse had become habit in barely ten days. How long was it going to take to break himself of it, now that it was no longer necessary? He could imagine Gladio continuing to call him pet names as an inside joke, and unfortunately he could also foresee himself habitually responding. He imagined it happening decades in the future, in front of political dignitaries, and having to decide whether to pretend it had never happened, or to explain why the King’s Shield had just referred to the king’s advisor as “Iggy baby”.
It would make for a comical way of relating a fairly traumatic tale at least, he supposed.
Although Noct seemed pretty deeply asleep, Ignis extricated himself from the child’s splayed limbs and sat up slowly. Gladio returned soon with several plates of the most extravagant meal Ignis had seen in weeks: it was some kind of meat, some sort of pasta with sauce, and some mixed vegetables, the three little piles spilling into each other. It looked like cafeteria food. But it was served on a ceramic plate, and it came with a fork and a napkin. It was positively deluxe.
He held his on his crossed knees, still sitting on the bed so as to not disturb Noct with his movement, while Gladio sat across from him on a rusty metal chair with a threadbare green cushion, holding the plate in one hand and periodically shoveling food into his mouth. They ate mostly in silence, except for the scraping of forks on the ceramic, enjoying themselves with the solid, seasoned food too much to bother pausing to chat.
But the food was gone quite soon, after which they sat in comfortable quiet for a few minutes, appreciating how normal the situation finally was.
Then Gladio finally said, “Thanks for finding them, Iggy. It’s a huge weight off my shoulders to know Iris is safe, and everyone else who made it too. It won’t erase what happened, but it makes a big difference.”
“I suppose Monica told you about the king?” Ignis asked. He’d almost said ‘your father’ but changed it at the last minute to something in some ways better and worse, but slightly less personal anyway.
“Yeah,” Gladio said, nodding sadly. “I mean it’s nothing we didn’t already know, but it still kinda hurts to hear.”
Ignis nodded. “Would that we could grieve like average citizens. But from our short conversation, it seemed like Monica was hoping we’d soon take our places within the structure of the Crownsguard.”
“Yeah, I bet,” Gladio said with a sort of wry smile. But he was understanding. “Crownsguard has a pretty strict hierarchy. Without my dad, everyone’s floundering.”
“They would be large shoes to fill even in times of peace,” Ignis said, grimacing.
Gladio shrugged. “We always knew it was gonna happen some way or another.”
“Yes but we didn’t think we’d be having to raise the crown prince at the same time.” Ignis looked at Gladio, aware that his expression was probably bordering on pleading, but he looked away before he could tell if Gladio commiserated or not. “Although I’m sure that there’s already a better plan in place.”
It was quiet for a few moments as Gladio looked at him, and Ignis avoided catching the piercing gaze. “I’ve wondered about that,” Gladio said. “About, y’know. Who’s Noct gonna live with. Like Cid said, even if there was a bunch of royal family, they can’t raise him in the open. The Nif’s’d be on their ass in a second.”
“I assumed Monica would be the one,” Ignis said, voicing something that had become almost a fear. “It only makes sense, after all. Nobody would question a woman her age with a child his age. She bears a passing resemblance to him. Furthermore, she’s an experienced leader, and any number of men would be willing to play her partner. Dustin, or perhaps Cor, would make an optimal father for Noct, in the absence of his own.”
“And they’d, what?” Gladio cocked an eyebrow at him, not doubtful of his tale, just curious. “Live here until Noct’s old enough, then go… retake the crown city?”
“I… suppose,” Ignis said. He knew it sounded a bit silly, but he hadn’t put a lot of thought into what would happen that far in the future. Something of the sort had to happen eventually, didn’t it? Rescuing Noct was not important only because he was their precious prince, but because he was the future king, the only thing that held their home nation together. He was an ideal, a possibility, a promise. He would be needed to protect them all, one day, as Regis had done before.
His expression falling into a frown, Ignis turned and set a hand on the sleeping baby’s side, as if he could physically shield him from such a heavy expectation. He was so little. He didn’t need that weight on him, crushing him before he could hardly stand. How could anybody look at him, let alone hold him in their arms, and think it was reasonable to ask him to lead thousands of people? Yet, the Crownsguard did. That was why they existed: to protect the king so that he could protect everyone else.
The job had never seemed so miserable and so suffocatingly important.
Gladio reached forward and took Ignis’ empty plate, stacking it on his and setting it on top of the dresser. “I guess we’ll know when we talk to Monica tomorrow. Til then, why not try to relax?”
“You’re right,” Ignis said, as much as he wasn’t sure he’d be able to actually put it from his mind.
Gladio stood and stretched. “Y’know, they have a bathroom here. With a tub and a shower. Water’s hot too. Why don’t you go take one? I’ll watch Noct for a while.”
It occurred belatedly to Ignis that Gladio was wearing slightly different clothes, and his short hair did have a slightly damp sheen to it. He’d probably showered while Ignis was sleeping.
Ignis glanced at Noct, who was still out like a light, despite the light being on in the room and the two of them talking at little less than normal volume. He stroked the boy’s back, then stood up with a nod. “Thank you. It’s been a little too long.”
“Enjoy,” Gladio said as they swapped places. He gave his standard little charming smirk.
Out in the hallway, Ignis closed the door as gently as possible and looked left and right, still completely lost in the labyrinthine and windowless house. He turned right, which he was fairly sure led towards the front door. The end of the hallway made a short left and then came out to a sitting room, where Jared, Talcott, Iris, and Iris’ lady attendant were quietly idling. Iris and Talcott were drawing at a low table in the middle of the room, while the adults read. Jared set down his newspaper at Ignis’ appearance, ready to serve.
“What can I get for you, Master Ignis?”
“The location of the bathroom, if you don’t mind,” Ignis said. “I was told there was access to hot water.”
“There is,” Jared said, smiling and standing slowly from his armchair. He looked across the room. “Joanna, will you please find some clothes for Master Ignis.”
“I’ll help!” both Iris and little Talcott called, scrambling up from the floor and following after Joanna as she nodded and disappeared down one of the two other hallways that left the room.
The bathroom was down another set of corridors, which Ignis was going to have to study soon, if he didn’t want to rely on servants to take him from one place to the next. He said as much to Jared, who laughed pleasantly.
“I believe this house was once several other homes before it was bought by the Crownsguard and turned into a safe house.”
“The Crownsguard owns this building? I’m surprised I didn’t know about this. Or that Gladio didn’t know about it.” He was a little irked too; knowing would have saved them several days of rough sleeping, at least. Not to mention the insecurity of wondering if or where they might find the others.
“I’m sorry,” Jared said, picking up on Ignis’ annoyance. “I believe you were to be told once you finished your training. I’m sure that rule will be revised in the future.”
Ignis sighed and put it from his mind. There was no changing the past, and everything had worked out. “I’m glad that it exists, regardless.”
And he was glad that it was stocked for an emergency. The bathroom was, indeed, fully functional, with stacks of towels and bars of soap, toothbrushes and first-aid equipment in the cabinet, and toilet paper in the holder by the toilet. There were even a few homely touches, like a rubber ducky on the sill of the tub, and a bowl of potpourri next to the sink. Everything seemed to be of fairly common quality, matching the building itself. Nobody would think this was the bathroom of the crown prince. It was exactly what they needed.
“Joanna will leave your fresh clothes on the table in the hallway,” Jared said, gesturing. “You may leave your clothes in here. I’ll have them washed and returned to you.”
“Many thanks,” Ignis told him, with a deep bowing nod not usually given to servants. He was deeply relieved at the idea of being able to get out of clothes he’d worn now more than a week in a row, and through no end of dirty environments.
“It’s my pleasure,” Jared said sincerely, bowing in return before leaving Ignis to his unusual privacy.
Declining to lock the door behind him, in case something went wrong and someone really needed him (and assuming there was only one bathroom, which someone might also really need), Ignis undressed, leaving his dust-soaked clothes on the floor in a pile. If it had been a race against someone who’d bathed any time recently, he’d have lost quite badly, his clothing either stiff or sticking to his skin in a way he’d managed to ignore for days. He had stopped itching almost a week ago; apparently Gladio had been right when he said you got used to not bathing. But even if he’d been able to bear it, having the chance to rid his skin of the layers of sweat and grime it had accumulated was tantalizing.
Stepping under the spray of water was like going back in time, to an age when he could and usually did shower every morning, and sometimes every night. He’d taken it for granted, the warm clean water so readily available.
Pale brown rivulets ran down his legs, whisking dirt away. He hadn’t even realized he was that badly coated. The water struggled to infiltrate his hair, the accumulated grease repelling liquid in a way that probably held some evolutionary advantage, but mostly disgusted him now. Slowly the strands separated and fell from the standing style he’d sported recently, plastering to his head, across his ears and down over his brow. It was longer than he remembered.
He scrubbed a bar of soap through his hair, unrelenting, then down over every inch of skin he could reach, twisting and stretching to get to every hidden crease and crevasse. There were places that never seemed dirty, when he’d bathed regularly, which now had jealously held on to every grain of dirt he’d crossed paths with on their trek to safety.
Even after everything was washed, Ignis lingered in the water far longer than he normally might, breathing in the steamy air like it was cleaning his insides as well. He considered even running a bath so he could luxuriate even longer, but there was only so long he could eschew responsibility. Others might need the water or the toilet, and he’d left Gladio to mind Noct alone, something which he was obviously capable of, but that he probably didn’t want to do longer than necessary. So he dragged himself out of the shower, and wrapped a towel around his waist so that he could reach out into the hall to grab whatever clothing they’d left him.
The clothing was all quite similar to what he’d removed, but not similar enough that he thought they’d ordered it exclusively for him. The pants were perhaps half a size too large around the waist and a size too short in the leg, but they would do just fine. The undershirt was as generic as the one he’d worn before. The overshirt could have benefitted from some tailoring, but it was clean, if not pressed. He left it unbuttoned.
His hair he pushed roughly up off of his face. Without any product or excessive sweat, it sort of flopped back rather than standing up, but it was still different from what he’d worn back in the city. There might have been some product he could borrow, but he decided not to bother, when only his pillow would be seeing him until morning.
He tidied his discarded clothing into a nicer pile, then retraced his earlier path back to the sitting room, and then on to the room they’d allotted him. The sitting room was empty of everyone other than Jared, who simply nodded at him as he passed with a wave. The corridors were all quite quiet; the only noise that could be heard were the faint sounds of the rest of the city beyond their walls, fainter than earlier, as everyone settled down for the evening.
Back in his room, the light was off. Inside, he found that Gladio had laid down and was seemingly asleep, his arm lightly draped over Noct. Ignis stood there and stared at them for a moment before he began to turn and head back to Jared, to ask if he might take Gladio’s room for the night instead. But the quiet noise caught Gladio’s attention and he turned to look at Ignis, who was probably little more than a silhouette in the light streaming in from the hallway.
“Where ya goin’?” he asked quietly, his voice a little rougher from sleep.
“Elsewhere,” Ignis replied. “I didn’t want to bother you when you’d already fallen asleep.”
“If you want space, my room’s three down. But there’s plenty of room here.” He scooted Noct over slightly and then scooted himself into the extra few inches that’d been emptied. What was left wasn’t exactly what Ignis would call ‘plenty of room’, but it wasn’t less roomy than the beds they’d been lucky to share recently.
Ignis thought about it for a moment, and Gladio kindly didn’t stare while Ignis tried to make up his mind. He turned back toward Noctis, only glancing over his shoulder once.
There was no reason for them to share a bed again, when this house had at least one more available to them, and enough security that Noct likely didn’t need both his guardians close at hand. But Ignis didn’t want to go wandering down the hall to find Gladio’s empty room, when all he cared about was right there before him.
He took off his overshirt and laid it across the half of the dresser not still occupied by dirty dinner plates, then laid down behind Gladio, his nose not two inches from the back of his head. There was really barely enough room for the three of them, even laying on their sides. Even so, it was not uncomfortable. Gladio radiated a human warmth that Ignis had become accustomed to. He liked the way that Gladio huffed a soft laugh, like he'd known Ignis would do exactly that. And although he couldn’t see him, he knew Noct was just a foot away; if he wanted confirmation, he would only have to sling his arm across the warm mountain of Gladio’s body. It was all so much better than Ignis imagined sleeping alone in a cold and quiet room would be, for all that he’d always appreciated his solitude in the times before.
It was comfortable enough that he didn’t stay awake for very long, and didn’t wake until morning. (After the fact, he was surprised that Noct didn’t wake to cry for food or comfort, but Ignis supposed that just meant he was either fed and comfortable enough, or so tired that it didn’t matter.) Unlike most previous days, it was not Noct, the sun, or Ignis’ own inner clock that woke him, but instead a brisk knock at the door, and then light from the hall streaming in and lighting on his face.
“Ignis, do you know where–?” Iris began, in a stage whisper. “Oh, Gladio! I didn’t know you guys were that good of friends!”
From behind him, as they’d apparently both turned to face the door in the night, Gladio said in a deep rumble, half obscured by the pillow and Ignis’ head, “We totally are.” He yawned, then asked, “What’s up, Iris? You know you’re not supposed to go into other peoples’ rooms.”
“You weren’t in your room,” she said, half indignant and half embarrassed.
Gladio sighed sleepily then sat up on his elbow so he could see over Ignis. “Sorry,” he said, sounding truly repentant. “I didn’t mean to worry you. We’ll be up soon, ‘kay?”
“Okay,” she replied, just slightly pouty that ‘soon’ wasn’t ‘now’. “We’re all gonna have breakfast in the dining room, so don’t fall back to sleep!”
“We won’t,” he promised her, followed by a lion-like yawn. But as soon as she left the room and closed the door behind her, he flopped back down and draped an arm over Ignis. The casual sleepy intimacy of it would have surprised Ignis if it weren’t for the fact that Gladio’s entire body had been draped over the back of him since the minute he’d woken up. The addition of the arm made it more personal but slightly less awkward, as Gladio apparently owned the choice not to move away, as if there was nothing odd about it at all and it didn’t bother him that they were cuddling.
It didn’t bother Ignis either, except when he thought about it too hard. But when he closed his eyes and relaxed, the warm weight on his back was actually quite nice, and he did not intend to be the one to break that contact. It was Gladio’s responsibility, after all; Iris had given the task to him.
Gladio wasn’t sleeping, though. He’d just flopped back for a moment to give his body the chance to adjust to wakefulness, rather than vaulting over Ignis’ body to start his day. “Guess we better go join them soon, huh,” he said after a few quiet moments, the sleep roughness mostly gone from his voice.
“If we want to avoid her barging in again,” Ignis replied. He still didn’t bother to sit up or roll away, though.
“Nah, she won’t do that,” Gladio said. “She’ll just bang on the door until we get up.” He burrowed deeper into the pillow, his forehead against the back of Ignis’ head. They stayed like that just a minute more, Gladio presumably dozing, before he yawned and leaned away. “Alright. Gonna have to get up at some point, much as I’d love to lay in bed all day.”
Following Gladio’s lead, Ignis sat up to greet the day as well, rubbing the lines his glasses had left on his temple. He’d have to remember to take them off at night, since he had a night stand now.
“I always assumed you were a morning person,” he said, glancing at Gladio over his shoulder as he swung his legs off the bed.
“Even a morning person’s allowed to sleep in sometimes,” he replied. “And I’ve been practically an all-night person for weeks. Can’t blame a guy for wanting a few extra winks.” He scooted to the edge of the bed and sat next to Ignis, feet on the floor but still not quite out of bed. “What about you? I could never tell if you actually liked mornings or you just put up with ‘em.”
“Neither,” Ignis said, after a moment of thought. “If there were nothing important to do, I’d probably never see a sunrise, and be content with that. But there’s always a reason to get out of bed.”
Gladio looked at him with an expression he’d seen him wear before, as if he thought Ignis was… charmingly misinformed. “Sunrise can be the reason. Someday I’ll take you camping, and then you’ll see.”
Ignis scoffed, though not derisively. “I think I’ve had enough camping to last a lifetime.”
“Nah, it’s different,” Gladio said. He obviously wasn’t swayed by Ignis’ disinterest. Not that it mattered; he was fairly sure they weren’t going to have the time or opportunity to go ‘properly’ camping any time in the foreseeable future.
They’d find out soon, he imagined.
Noct was still quite drowsy, but he’d started rousing when the mattress moved with their weight, and was soon sitting up, looking like he was still in a dream. Ignis knelt down to his level to say good morning, but the baby just blinked blearily at him.
“He’ll wake up when there’s food around,” Gladio said with a laugh.
“I’m sure.” Ignis smoothed Noct’s hair, then eyed his stained onesie. “Not that I think Noct cares, but I wish we had some clean clothes for him to wear when he meets his people.”
“Oh, we do,” Gladio said, going to the dresser and pulling a few drawers open before picking some tiny pieces of clothing out. “Joanna brought a stack of baby clothes while you were in the shower last night.” He laid a few articles on the bed. “Buncha different sizes, but I bet some of it’ll fit. There’s stuff for you too, by the way.”
Being able to choose between several choices of clean clothes was such an unexpected pleasant surprise that Ignis could feel his mood lifting as he sorted through the options both for himself and Noct. Ultimately he decided not to change his own clothing, since it was only a handful of hours old (and he’d seen the maids washing clothes by hand; it would have been rude to add to their pile if not strictly necessary), but he got Noct into a little puppy-patterned onesie that was cute and silly and made him look like someone’s kid, rather than the regal crown prince.
“Well aren’t you lookin’ handsome,” Gladio said half-jokingly as he picked Noct up into his arms. He certainly did look better than he had when they’d brought him into the safehouse, but ‘handsome’ was more of a doting father’s exaggeration than the truth.
Ready to face breakfast, if not the day as a whole, they went out into the hall and followed the corridors til they reached the dining room. (Gladio had had the full tour the night before, apparently, so he knew roughly where they were going.)
“Shall I carry Noct?” Ignis asked as they walked. It wasn’t that he thought Gladio needed a rest or anything, but he’d become used to holding the baby, while Gladio held his sword at the ready.
Gladio raised an eyebrow at him. “You carried him across a whole country. I think you can take a break.” With that usual charming smirk he added, “Anyway, he’s my kid too. Maybe I wanna hold him sometime.”
“I don’t think we need to uphold our story around the Crownsguard,” Ignis mentioned, a little surprised that Gladio was still sticking to it, even if he was not being entirely serious.
“I don’t see anyone else offering to be Noct’s dad,” Gladio said with a shrug.
The response lightened a weight in Ignis’ chest that he hadn’t entirely recognized.
The dining room was several left turns from the bedroom, somewhere in the middle of the house, if Ignis’ sense of direction was correct. It was a large room that seemed to have been two separate rooms at some point, with several smaller tables pushed together in the center. Most of the people Ignis had seen so far, and several he hadn’t previously seen, were eating and chatting quietly. Most of them looked up when they came in; several of them put their cutlery down and sat at attention, as if the little prince would care. They went back to eating (with guilty glances) when they sat down and began helping themselves to pitchers of milk and boxes of cereal or oatmeal. (Some people were eating pancakes and eggs, but Ignis and Gladio both opted for the quicker choices, so the servants could stop staring.)
“You made it!” Iris said with exaggerated excitement from several spaces down the table. “I thought you sleepyheads were gonna cuddle all morning.”
“Thought about it,” Gladio replied, completely unabashed about even joking that they’d considered skipping breakfast in order to snuggle. Ignis maintained a carefully neutral expression, aware that ten or so of his coworkers were party to this conversation.
It wasn’t that nobody else noticed or cared, but Monica at least ignored the sibling banter. “How is the prince this morning?” she asked from near the head of the table.
She’d addressed the question to Gladio, who was still holding Noct on his knee and feeding him little pieces of cereal, so it was Gladio who answered. “Fine as ever,” he said. “Slept like a log.”
“Does he need anything?” she asked.
Gladio looked to Ignis, who thought about it for a moment. He had clothing, he had shelter, and he had his two fathers, at least until someone else should take their place. The only thing he could think of was that he hoped Noct’s ‘parents’ didn’t change too often. “Stability,” was what he answered. “He’s not had a stable environment for much too long for his age. I believe he’d benefit from a regular schedule and family life.”
Monica nodded. “We’re working on that. Dustin should be back today with details.”
There was little else they could do but nod in acknowledgement and go about their breakfasts, but the ensuing silence felt awkward, their presence having disturbed the soft flow of conversation between the others. Ignis disliked the stilted quiet, so he voiced a thought that had occurred to him the night before. “May I ask, have you heard from Cor?”
“We have,” Monica told him. “But I don’t expect we’ll see him here in Lestallum. He’s with the remainder of the Kingsglaive, attempting to negotiate with Tenebrae for assistance. He’s expecting Dustin and myself to make any relevant decisions in his absence.”
“Of course,” Ignis said, deferentially. “Is there anyone else we’re waiting for?”
That seemed to be an uncomfortable question, but one she and everyone else had probably already considered. “We hope more Crownsguard and citadel servants will find their way to us, of course, but at this point everyone who hasn’t checked in is assumed either KIA or to have defected.”
Ignis felt a bit as if he’d put his foot in his mouth for asking about such sensitive topics at mealtime. Gladio seemed to feel the same. He cleared his throat and said, “So, are there any pancakes left?”
The sigh of relief was almost audible, as people relaxed in their seats. “I’ll make you some, Master Gladio,” one of the maids said as she got up from her seat, sounding grateful for the distraction.
“Some for Noct too, if you don’t mind,” he called after her. “Thanks!”
That had apparently broken enough of the tension that people continued their murmured conversations and the room was filled with warmer sounds than just the clinking of silverware on ceramic.
A little less than a minute went by before Iris asked Gladio, “Can I call the prince ‘Noct’ too?” She looked at Monica for a second opinion, even though Gladio hadn’t given his yet.
“I think it would be considered inappropriate,” Monica said, sounding like she was trying to balance being both strict and gentle.
“I think propriety’s the least of our worries,” Gladio countered. He was smiling as he said it, but Ignis could hear in his voice that he wasn’t being flippant about it. “I figure it’s better to call him Noct all the time than accidentally call him Prince Noctis out in public.”
Monica nodded sideways. “That’s a fair point. I think then, for the time being, we can allow the nickname,” she said to Iris, who looked relieved. Regarding Gladio and then Ignis, she added, “That reminds me. I heard the two of you decided to pose as a married couple in order to hide your Crownsguard identities. It’s unorthodox, but I commend your creativity.”
“Thank you,” Ignis said, aware that he sounded a little more solemn than the situation probably called for, as Monica seemed to think it was funny. “We hoped it would discourage people from looking too closely at us or at Noct.”
“Worked pretty well,” Gladio added, nudging Ignis' elbow with his own. “I think it’s ‘cuz Iggy really exudes mom energy.”
Ignis rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t but smile at Glado’s teasing. “Please. That’s an insult to mothers.”
“Really, though. Nobody would’ve doubted that Noct was your kid.”
Shaking his head, Ignis said, “I only did what anybody would do in our situation.” Though, if he was honest with himself, he didn’t truly believe that. Not just anybody would have taken care of Noct with the level of obsession that he sometimes felt. If anybody could have done it, then he could have left Noct anywhere, could have roped in any number of helpful hands. He couldn’t trust that someone who wasn’t Crownsguard would handle Noct as he deserved. He hardly trusted Crownsguard to do so.
He didn’t voice that thought.
“It’s commendable, regardless,” Monica said. “I think anybody would agree that your protecting the prince all the way here proves your worthiness as his Guardians. We’ll all be counting on you to protect him with that same energy in the coming years, when he takes his place as king.”
The assembled adults nodded or muttered agreements as if saying ‘amen’ at the end of a sermon; Ignis privately felt they were getting ahead of themselves.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Gladio said. “Protecting Noct’s been my goal since I was a kid. I don’t plan on quitting.”
Everyone was sufficiently impressed with Gladio’s statement and went back to their meals and conversations. The maid who’d offered them pancakes returned shortly with several full plates, which she set in front of Gladio. Noct tried to get his hands on every single cake, so Ignis took him and set him on his knee instead, just out of range of Gladio’s breakfast. But having promised he’d share, Gladio cut a few slices and fork-fed them to Noct, instead of letting the toddler mush them between his grabby fingers. After Noct’s mouth was full, Gladio held one out to Ignis.
“Say ‘ahh’,” he said, waiting patiently until Ignis finally deigned to open his mouth and be fed. He didn’t look around to see if anyone was watching; he preferred to pretend they were on their own somewhere, not performing for a crowd who knew it was a farce.
The breakfast gathering was not a formal event, so people left whenever they were finished and went back to whatever they worked on in the day. Monica paused as she passed by them. “I’ll have you informed when Dustin arrives. Then I’d like for us to discuss what needs to be done next.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they both replied.
Even though they hadn’t been instructed not to leave the safe house, waiting to be called upon made it clear that they had to stay nearby. After breakfast, Gladio gave Ignis the grand tour, which he’d missed out on the previous day. There wasn’t very much more to the house than he’d seen, but it was good to know how the hallways all connected to each other.
It was strange to have nothing to do for several hours, and stranger still to be sequestered inside when they’d spent nearly every waking hour (and too many sleeping ones) out in the elements, the past weeks. Ignis had become accustomed to the sun and sky, so much so that being indoors made him a little anxious.
Or maybe it was knowing that, essentially, he would soon be receiving a life-changing performance review for his work since the escape from Insomnia.
They were summoned to Monica’s office a little after lunch (at which Monica was not present; it was a less organized affair than breakfast, and people took it whenever was convenient). Dustin was already there, and they were already in the middle of a discussion when Ignis and Gladio walked in (with Noct in Ignis’ arms again).
“It’s good to see you two,” Dustin said with a deep nod, which seemed to almost want to be a bow. His inflection lacked any joy or mirth, making it sound like he was not actually especially pleased to see them, but Ignis knew the man just well enough to remember that he was always like that. Such weight had always fallen on his and Monica’s shoulders that they appeared taciturn more often than not.
“You too,” Gladio said. “Glad you got out of the city. I was kinda surprised not to see you here though.”
“I was visiting other towns,” Dustin explained. “That’s why we needed to meet with you, to discuss moving Prince Noctis to a semi-permanent location.”
Ignis’ grip on Noct tightened, as if the man had threatened to rip the child away immediately. He knew Dustin had said nothing wrong, though. It made sense to find a new home for Noct, now that his ancestral home was beyond their reach. “Did you have a location in mind, sir?”
“A few,” Dustin said. “We’re in talks to acquire new properties in Old Lestallum and Cape Caem, at least until Cor secures an alliance with Tenebrae and the prince can be relocated to a safer country.”
“It sounds as if you already have plans, then,” Ignis said, belatedly realizing an edge of irritation might have snuck into his voice. “So what do we need to discuss?”
Dustin and Monica looked at each other, speaking silently through a bond of years. Then they turned back to them, to Ignis primarily, and Monica said, “We need to discuss your reassignment.” She looked at him as if she felt a little guilty, but it didn’t stop her from continuing on. “When the prince is settled in a semi-permanent location, we’ll need the two of you to take on the roles that were left to you. Gladio, you’ll remain near Prince Noctis as his shield, possibly in an anonymous position. Ignis… We think you should accompany Cor in Tenebrae. Once we can move Prince Noctis to the embassy there, you’ll finish whatever training you had left and resume your roles as Shield and Advisor.”
For what felt like a long time, Ignis stared at Monica, digesting what she’d just said. She wanted him to leave, not just Noct, but the country as a whole, to go and seek refuge from another nation? Was that really the best course of action? Moreover, was it what he should be doing? And if he was doing that, and Gladio was to be watching from a distance, then who was going to be there for Noct’s every-day needs? Would Monica herself be handling this important task?
Before he could get his wits about him enough to voice any of his questions, Ignis’ primary concern tumbled out of Gladio’s mouth, sounding much less like the words of an obedient soldier than Ignis would have normally expected, had he not felt exactly the same way.
“So who’s gonna watch Noct?”
“Either Dustin or I will be on hand as often as possible,” Monica answered, as if that should have cleared things up sufficiently.
“Sure, but who’s gonna be there for him all the time?” Gladio asked, crossing his arms.
“His primary caretaker? We haven’t decided, but he’ll have several maids with him at any given time, regardless.”
Gladio looked at Ignis with a disbelieving expression. Ignis couldn’t say for sure that they ‘shared’ the look between them, because he wasn’t sure what expression currently sat on his face. “So one of the maids is gonna be his mom,” Gladio said to Monica.
“Of course not,” Monica responded, realizing that Gladio’s statement had in fact been a question. “No more than his nursemaids in the citadel were his mother. Nobody would ever try to replace Queen Aulea.”
Ignis was surprised that Monica had gotten the heart of Gladio’s accusation so backwards, but in his own heart he found her answer exactly as expected. He was about to argue that Noct deserved some kind of parent figure, even if it could not be his biological mother and father, but Gladio again beat him to the punch.
“I have as much respect for Queen Aulea as anyone,” he said, “but we’re not talking about loyalty to our fallen monarchs, we’re talking about a little kid who deserves to be given the kind of attention his mom and dad probably would have if they were still around. I mean, do you think they’d be happy to know their baby was being raised by a committee? Just because we wanted to ‘respect’ them? What kind of respect is it to raise the crown prince at arm’s length?” He took a breath and shook his head as if to clear it. “Look, I’m not saying it’s a bad plan. But I wanna know who’s gonna be there when Noct has nightmares. Who’s he gonna confide in? Who’s gonna care enough to be supportive without coddling him? Who’s gonna remember that he’s a boy and not just a prince?”
They all stared at each other for several long, drawn-out moments, and then Monica looked down, as if admitting defeat. “We don’t know yet,” she said. “But his safety comes first.”
Gladio made a noise that was just short of a scoff. “Yeah, well, we’re the Crownsguard. I figured we could do two things at once.” Neither of their elders responded, so Gladio moved on, looking a little defeated himself. “So when are you moving him?”
Dustin adjusted his glasses and his stance. “Within a few weeks, we hope. The property sales have to go through several hands if they’re to remain safe for our usage. Until then, you’ll all be staying here in Lestallum. I’ll be back and forth between the towns, as needed.”
“And what shall we do?” Ignis asked, finally finding his voice, though he thought it wavered a bit.
Dustin looked to Monica, who was handling the local Crownsguard while he branched out. “Protecting the royal family is our first priority,” she said, “but we must also help the citizens. You’ll be assisting the townsfolk and refugees.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said automatically. Beside him, Gladio nodded, but it was barely perceptible.
“You’ll be informed when we’re ready to move,” Dustin said, putting his hands behind his back in a military stance. “Until then, just remember the vows you took.”
The two younger Crownsguard nodded and left the room to finish off their leisure day before getting back to work in the morning. Ignis followed Gladio quietly, and paid no mind to where they were going until he found they’d ended up in a less-used hallway junction at the back of the house, where all but one light had burnt out. He figured it matched Gladio’s mood.
There were questions and thoughts rolling about in Ignis’ brain, but he couldn’t figure out how to voice them. Instead he sighed and leaned against a wall, between two spots of peeling wallpaper. Gladio looked at him, sighed, and did the same.
“I get where they’re coming from,” Gladio said eventually. “But they’re thinking about Noct like a thing and not a person. Like he’s a gold-plated chess piece.” He looked over at Noct, still sitting in Ignis’ arms and only squirming the usual amount. He ruffled his hair affectionately.
Ignis looked down at the child’s messy head. “Like he’s simply the crown, and not the head upon which it would rest,” he added. “I suppose that is what he means to most people.”
“Yeah,” Gladio muttered. He was quiet a moment before he said, “Well I think it’s bull.”
“Then are you going to do something about it?” Ignis asked. He wondered what kind of plan Gladio might have, though he was sure he’d go along with it, whatever it might be.
Gladio shrugged. “I dunno. What is there to do? Somehow make everyone see him differently?” He gazed off into the middle distance. “All I can do is my job. Dustin’s right about that, at least. I have to remember my vows.”
Ignis hummed, but didn’t otherwise reply, and followed Gladio when he led them back out to the common room to find some way to spend the evening other than dwelling on the unchangeable future. Of course it didn’t keep Ignis from ruminating on the conversation they’d had, and his own vows. He’d promised to guide the monarch he was assigned to, to keep him on the right path and protect him, as surely as the Shield, if not so literal. He didn’t know how that could coincide with giving over his care to someone else, let alone someone who had not taken such vows.
He didn’t think Dustin and Monica would appreciate his interpretation of the assignment, but it was not they to whom he was devoted.
Chapter 12
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
If they had all stayed sequestered away inside the safehouse, perhaps nothing would have changed, and they’d have sat and waited for Dustin to return with news about their new safehouse properties. But in the morning after their discussion, Monica had jobs for Ignis and Gladio, which did not include sitting around the house patiently.
The previous day had ended with a lot of free time for the two of them. Some of it they used for catching up on personal maintenance (Gladio was letting his hair grow out, but Ignis needed a trim if he wanted his to do anything other than flopping into his face, and that was to say nothing of the state of his fingernails after half a month of hard living), and some of the time was spent on leisure, catching up with Iris and the other auxiliary Crownsguard members.
Before bed, however, Gladio took the time to haul his bed from his room, down the hall, and into Ignis’. The frame had barely cleared the door, and turning it in the narrow corridor looked like it was going to be impossible. But within the hour, Ignis’ room had become their room, with a double wide bed that two nearly-grown men and a small child could sleep on comfortably.
“I can handle Noct on my own at night,” Ignis assured Gladio, but it didn’t change Gladio’s mind.
“What, so you’re gonna take him to the bathroom with you if you have to pee in the middle of the night? I know you wouldn’t just leave him alone.”
Ultimately, Gladio was correct, so even though Ignis didn’t foresee having to get up and leave Noct for any reason, unless he were to come down ill suddenly, he didn’t argue. He had a feeling Gladio would have come up with another logical reason, anyway. And, besides, Ignis was glad he didn’t have to admit that he felt safer with Gladio there.
So they’d slept much like the previous night, but with a little more space between them, which was both a blessing and a curse, and, no, Ignis was not going to think too hard about it. He was glad that Gladio was near at hand; that was all that really mattered.
At breakfast, Monica handed out assignments for the day. The maids had their usual tasks around the house, as well as some errands around town. With several more people present (and those people being teenage boys with teenage appetites, no longer shackled by their plight as refugees and flight from the city), they needed to refresh their stocks of food and other consumables.
“Ignis, I’d like you to follow Maria today. Previously we had the girls go out in pairs, but there’s too much work to get done. It wasn’t efficient. If you have a concealable weapon, please take it with you. Otherwise I can have Jared source one for you.”
Although Ignis wasn’t thrilled to leave Noct in someone else’s hands for the day, he accepted his assignment without complaint. After the meal was over, he met with Maria to plan their outing, and then handed Noct over to Berta, the woman who’d minded him while Ignis was out previously. The woman looked mildly perturbed as she took the baby into her arms.
“I’m sure he and I will have a wonderful day together,” she told Ignis with a smile that was certainly a bit fake. “But, do come back to say hello every so often. It wouldn’t do to overwork yourself.”
“Of course,” he told her, and kissed Noct’s head, both as a matter of recently-established habit, and, admittedly, as a jealous little ploy to establish himself as the superior caretaker. It was the little vice he allowed himself.
As soon as Noct was no longer in his arms and he’d convinced himself not to be irritable about it, Ignis tracked down Gladio, who was conferring with his own work partner for the day. Apparently Monica had tasked him and one of the other maids with meeting one of their many informants a little ways out of town.
“Wish I still had my greatsword,” Gladio grumbled. “But I’ll make do with this shortsword Jared found for me. Here, Iggy.” He handed Ignis back the one dagger he’d kept out of the pair, when they’d started scouting the town, and Ignis tucked them into his belt.
“Stay safe out there,” he told Gladio, resting a hand on his arm very briefly.
Gladio shrugged, replying with his usual charming smile. “Hey, I’ll be safer out there than in here. At least out there there’s room to swing a sword.”
Ignis didn’t argue with him, even though he was fairly certain that outdoors was at least a little more dangerous, by virtue of the Nif soldiers in the city, and the beasts outside of it. It was Gladio’s comfort zone, anyway.
It was strange, going out into the town with neither Noct nor Gladio, following a woman he hardly knew to handle chores for a household he was not familiar with managing, but it was busy enough to keep him occupied. There was more to buy than they could reasonable carry in two sets of arms (and Ignis needed to keep at least one arm free enough to grab a knife, if needed), so they made several trips back and forth to the house, taking breaks in between, mostly so that Ignis could honor Berta’s request to check on Noct.
The little boy was overjoyed every time Ignis popped his head into whichever room they were playing in at the time. (Berta was changing it up regularly in a semi-successful attempt to keep Noct entertained.) He dropped the stuffed animal or book or torn up piece of paper or spoon he was playing with, and immediately began to struggle his way over to Ignis, even if someone else was holding him, or he was barricaded behind something his minders had thought was toddler-proof, just because he hadn’t knocked it over yet. His interest in seeing Ignis was an inspiring and powerful force for the otherwise sleepy and mild-mannered child.
Then again, Ignis thought, maybe he was only mild-mannered when he wanted to be. Berta and whoever she’d wrangled to help for an hour always seemed relieved to see Ignis, if only so they had someone to moan to about Noct’s foul mood or stubborn refusal to cooperate.
“He simply wouldn’t go down for a nap,” Berta complained, when Ignis came back for a lunch break. “I’m sure he’s tired! But even if I laid down with him on the couch or the floor or a bed, he won’t sleep.”
“He’s gotten used to being walked around,” Ignis explained. “We were on the move for the greater part of two weeks, so he largely napped in my arms.”
Berta sighed. “I’ve tried that too. Nothing works.”
Chuckling, Ignis said, “Perhaps you’re simply too comfortable for his tastes.” Given that Noct had slept almost exclusively on rocks, springy mattresses, and Ignis’ lean chest and shoulders of late, Berta’s inherent softness might just seem too unusual.
Not that there was anything much she could do about that, of course. She gave him an unimpressed look, but he had to get back to work with Maria too soon to really be bothered by it.
By the time they next returned to the house, Gladio had returned as well, and since he hadn’t been given any further tasks for the day, he accompanied Ignis and Maria on what they hoped would be the final round of errands. Ignis didn’t say so, but he felt much more comfortable as soon as Gladio was at his side again, even though he’d had to leave his shortsword at the house for being too obtrusive in the crowded streets and market. Gladio’s presence always provided a sense of security, regardless of his ability to fight off potential enemies. If nothing else, he was the only person who understood what was going through Ignis’ head these days without his even having to speak it.
Gladio’s spare set of arms helped, too, but even if he’d just tagged along without helping at all, Ignis would have been content.
When they returned for the final time that evening, Berta happily deposited Noct back into Ignis’ arms for the night, thanking them for taking him, supposedly because she really needed to go help with dinner. It wasn’t the most convincing of excuses, but Ignis didn’t mind one way or the other. He and Gladio happily played with a cheerful little Noct for the hour until they were summoned for dinner, after which they headed back to their room in a leisurely meander that had begun to feel foreign to them after weeks on the road. They slept, they woke, and they repeated the day– with a few changes to the schedule as each new day came and Monica assigned them to various Crownsguard tasks that needed their attention.
Some days they handled mundane errands and chores, like procurement, or cleaning their small collection of weapons and armors. Some days they were sent out to hunt for food rather than purchase it at the market, because even the remainder of the royal forces still had to balance their books at the end of the day. Most of the time, Gladio went on his own (meaning a maid went with him, or possibly Jared; someone who wasn’t needed elsewhere at the time), but there were a few times when Ignis was not occupied and went along. Hunting was not his forte, but it was a nice diversion from the city life that had started to feel claustrophobic, and without worrying about Noct, it was almost fun.
Many days, they were sent out (individually, or together) to assist citizens or refugees whose complaints or cries for help had made their way through the grapevine to Monica. Sometimes, they were the grapevine, wandering about the town specifically to keep an ear out for people in need, to help fulfill the Crownsguard’s secondary duty, as well as maintain as much peace as possible in a town that was building into a powderkeg.
It wasn’t difficult to notice that tensions were high. Ignis and Gladio had been shoulder-to-shoulder with refugees for approaching a month, and if anything it would have been difficult not to notice the anxiety, the exhaustion, the confusion, pain, and sometimes hatred that followed the crowds like a cloud. It was bad enough when they were huddled together on haven rocks or under the leaky metal roofs of rest-stops, when there were miles of wide-open wilderness just outside their safe zone. The oppressively open desert or forest had been its own sort of frightening for these people, but at least it had given them room to breathe. Now, packed in like prisoners in the safest place they could think of, the depression their neighbors felt was pushing in on them from all sides. And that was to say nothing of their more earthly needs, which still weren’t being met regularly. The city was struggling to provide for them, and most of them could not provide for themselves.
And it wasn’t only the refugees who were having a hard time adjusting to the situation. The residents of Lestallum might have opened their streets and sometimes their homes to those who’d escaped from Insomnia, but it wasn’t without some measure of resentment. As the refugees soaked up resources, there were less resources left for the city-dwellers to feed their own families. The streets were crowded, the air was loud with muttered voices day and night, trash was piling up in corners, and Lestallum’s sewer system was struggling to accommodate thousands of new users. And that was to say nothing of the rising crime levels, as irritated refugees and residents alike took to stealing, defacing property, and brawling with others who were as dissatisfied as they were.
And yet, none of that was the true problem.
Everything would have been bearable if it weren’t for the presence of the Imperial soldiers. The outlying cities, including Lestallum, had never had much of a military presence, as most of the Kingsglaive were stationed near Insomnia. If soldiers were needed elsewhere in the country, they were deployed from the several military bases scattered throughout the land. But the Kingsglaive in Insomnia had been largely wiped out, and the Empire had attacked the bases soon after, if not simultaneously. There was no one left to defend the citizens against the Imperial forces. In a way it was lucky that most of the country was not considered strategically important enough for the Empire to completely overtake, but they’d still deployed enough soldiers to places like Lestallum that their presence was felt keenly.
Supposedly the Nif soldiers were there to take up the responsibility of looking after the citizens they’d inherited by destroying the country’s capitol and royal family, but nobody believed that. Even if the soldiers minded their own business for the most part, there had been far too many occasions where they (either individually or in groups) heckled refugees or interrogated residents, and as the tensions grew between Lucians, they grew twofold between Lucians and Nifs.
In the first week of staying at the safehouse, Ignis had not only heard of but witnessed nearly countless instances of soldiers stopping passersby to ask where they were going, getting physical with the civilians if they took too long answering, or if they seemed suspicious. And while that was bad, far worse were the rumors of Nif soldiers stalking civilians, following them back to their houses, sometimes organizing raids on peoples’ homes. It was rumor only because nobody in the Crownsguard had seen it with their own eyes, but on the second week Ignis and Gladio were sent to guard several families whose houses were broken into by soldiers. They posed as mercenaries sent by the power plant, which acted as the town’s primary benefactor and de-facto governing power.
“What a mess,” Ignis muttered, gingerly picking up shards of wood and glass. The soldiers had broken down the door, badly damaging the door frame as well, and scattered many of the family’s precious belongings all over the floor.
“What do you think they were looking for?” Gladio asked the mother of the family, who was huddled beside them, chewing her nails anxiously.
“Rebels, I assume,” she said, looking around the living space as if she might see some evidence of what they’d been searching for, some reason for them to have thought they might find something. “But that’s no reason to go through my glassware!”
Gladio shared a look with Ignis, in which they silently agreed that the Nifs had probably just destroyed their property for entertainment. They didn’t mention it to the lady, though; there was no reason to make her any more upset than she was, even though nobody involved was interested in sparing the Imperials her ire.
They helped the family clean up the house, and then kept watch for the rest of the day and partway into the night, just in case the soldiers came back, although it wasn’t likely that they would.
Later that week, Ignis actually witnessed the soldiers converging on a house while he was out helping Maria with errands. It was chilling to see them pulling people from the home and throwing them into the arms of more waiting soldiers, who looked them over roughly before shoving them into the gathered crowd. Ignis watched in disgust, his hand twitching to grab the dagger holstered under his overshirt, but he knew better than to engage the enemy. The civilians who had jumped out of the crowd to try to wrestle the Nifs away from their victims were largely beaten down with no trouble at all, slapped across the face with iron gauntlets. The soldiers didn’t even need to unsheathe their weapons.
“Let’s head back,” Ignis muttered to Maria, leading the way through back-alleys he hoped the soldiers weren’t watching. He hated not assisting the citizens in some way, but he consoled himself that the Imperials weren’t murdering people, at least. Although he was afraid that he wouldn’t have been able to help even if they were; there was still Noct to think about, and being available to him was still and always Ignis’ first priority.
Maria dropped her purchases in the kitchen as soon as they arrived, and hurried to Monica’s office, Ignis at her heels.
“Miss Monica! The soldiers are raiding another house, right this minute! What should we do?”
Monica looked to Ignis. “Did it seem like anyone was hurt?”
“Mostly the citizens who tried to interfere,” Ignis told her. “I don’t believe anyone was killed.”
A heavy sigh fell from Monica’s lips. She most likely felt the same way Ignis did, disappointed in her inability to protect the people, but knowing that she didn’t have the power to stop it without putting their own family at risk. “They’re looking for Kingsglaive, according to the word about town.” She shook her head, and caught Ignis’ eye. “But how do you suppose they’re going to identify them? Neither the ‘glaive nor the ‘guard is recognizable without our uniforms.”
“They’re looking for Noct,” Ignis concluded. “A handful of Kingsglaive would pose no real threat to them. The soldiers obviously know the truth that they haven’t told the people, that the prince is alive.” He swallowed heavily; it felt like a ball was lodged in his throat. “But why should it matter that he survived, when he has no throne left to inherit?”
Even as he asked the question, he knew that there was an answer to it.
“King Regis’ power didn’t die with him,” Monica said. “The Empire fears that one day the prince will learn to use that power. Whatever their ultimate goal, they know Prince Noctis is one of the only things that may stand in their way.”
The king’s power was not well understood even by his closest companions, but everyone was aware of it. Everyone knew that he used the power of Lucis’ crystal to fuel the shield which protected the city– had protected the city. Ignis still wasn’t sure why it had failed, but he (like most people) knew so little about how the king’s power worked that he didn’t think to question it.
And he did not question that Noctis had a power of his own, even as an infant. The two instances in which they’d caught him, eyes a-glow as he watched some spirit nobody else could see, made it infinitely clear that he was no mere mortal. But he was also so very mortal that Ignis thought of little else. That he could speak to spirits had, for the most part, not seemed so important when Noct needed to eat, needed a safe place to sleep, and to be held when he was upset. And it hadn’t seemed important enough to mention to Monica in the past few weeks. It was possible that she already knew about it, or assumed it to be true, but Ignis was aware that he should tell her anyway, to make it perfectly clear that Noct truly was that which the Empire feared.
He didn’t tell her. What he said instead was more immediately important. “Then we’ve got to get him out of the city.”
“Soon,” Monica said. “The next safe house is almost ready. Dustin will be escorting us personally, as well as Mr. Auburnbrie and the remaining peripheral Crownsguard. We don’t dare send the location by courier, or we could have left already.”
“The location will be either Old Lestallum or Cape Caem, correct?” Ignis asked. “Then we already know about which direction to head. Would it not be safer to meet Dustin along the road?”
Monica shook her head. “I don’t know for sure that the final location will be either of those, and in the meantime we must keep the prince somewhere safe. A verified safe house is the only location the prince can be kept reliably.”
Ignis crossed his arms, even though he knew in the back of his mind somewhere that the pose was far too bold to wear in front of his superior. The fear made him feel bold. “And when the safe house has been compromised? Isn’t a hotel or even a haven safer than relying on a false sense of security?”
He could see that Monica was getting irritated, although he didn’t consider it to be entirely his fault. “We don’t know for sure that the Empire knows of this house. In fact, we can be sure they don’t, or they’d have come already. But you’re right. If we don’t hear from Dustin before the end of the week, we’ll head towards Old Lestallum and hope to meet him along the way. Until then, we’ll keep sentries posted outside, day and night. I’d like you and Gladio to take turns guarding the main entrance, starting immediately. Jared and Joanna will watch the back entrance.”
Although he wasn’t satisfied with the answer, Ignis nodded, and went to take up guard duty at the front door. There really was no answer that could have satisfied him, given the circumstances, but he still wished there was something more they could do. Even his suggestion of leaving immediately was not a good one. Old Lestallum was days away on foot, and it would take time to find someone willing to drive them. He wondered if Monica had considered Imperial blockades, and if she had a plan for how to get through or around them.
The early evening on the street was fairly quiet, in terms of a Lestallum stuffed with refugees. No raids or even noisy fights broke out in hearing range, at least. Ignis waited outside the door, leaning on the stucco some meters to the left or right of the house, so that it wasn’t clear which building he was associated with. He did his best to look bored, like any loitering refugee, though he imagined that if anyone got a good look at his eyes, they’d find a steely fire burning there.
Just a little before dinner, Gladio came back, tailing one of the other maids. When he saw Ignis leaning there and looking irritable, he waited for the maid to let herself inside, and then leaned up next to Ignis. Looking sidelong at him, he asked, “Get in a fight with Monica?”
“Oh, nothing quite that severe,” he said, relaxing minutely now that Gladio was at his side (as well as Gladio’s sword). “Yet, more severe. The Empire’s raids have inspired Monica to take some action, though the only action she’s yet agreed to take is to post guards at the doors. Hence, my loitering.”
Gladio nodded. “Need a break? I can stand around for a while. Might even be able to look half as menacing as you.”
A little huff of laughter escaped Ignis, but he shook his head. “At dinner, I think. We’ll be taking turns until the end of the week.”
“What happens at the end of the week?”
With his arms crossed, Ignis gave a kind of shrug that made him feel more his age than he might have for years, as if he were the angsty teenager feuding with the parent-figure he’d barely ever had. “Either Dustin will return with a plan, or we’ll strike out toward Old Lestallum.”
Grimacing, Gladio said, “If it’s that dire, shouldn’t we leave now?”
Ignis could only shake his head, because he didn’t have a proper answer, other than that that wasn’t the plan and it wasn’t up to him.
Sighing, Gladio stood up and dusted the stucco dust off his jacket. “Well. Guess I’ll go polish my sword. See ya at dinner, then.”
Before he could disappear into the house, Ignis stopped him with a request. “Check on Noct for me, would you? I know Berta’s a capable babysitter, but…”
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Gladio said with a nod. He waved and retreated inside, leaving Ignis to the heat of the evening and his careful watch. At least Gladio understood Ignis’ concern, despite his inability to completely explain it. They’d spent a month now with Noct’s safety as their primary goal, and now that danger was more specifically afoot, Ignis just couldn’t leave him to someone else.
The sun was still lingering near the horizon when Gladio came to the door. “Hey,” he said in greeting, leaning back next to Ignis as if they were just two friends taking a break in the early evening. They looked like they should be smoking, although even many of the residents and refugees who would have were not, the habit having become too expensive and hard to come by. “Dinner’s still on. Jared’s feeding Noct, but I bet he misses you.”
“Thank you,” Ignis replied, somewhat perfunctorily, not because he didn’t appreciate Gladio, but because the waiting with his hand decidedly not on the hilt of his blade had somewhat worn on him. “I’ll relieve you in a few hours.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Gladio said, shoving Ignis’ shoulder so softly it bordered on a caress. “Just get some rest.”
“Alright,” Ignis said, shaking his head at himself. More sincerely this time, he said again, “Thank you,” and went inside to the dining room, where he quickly fed himself before taking Noct from Jared, who claimed it was no trouble at all. Ignis believed the old man didn’t mind holding or watching the little prince, but he liked it better when Noct was close at hand, and the way Noct always brightened up when Ignis reached for him made it even more impossible to leave him with someone else.
They went back to the bedroom after that, and although Gladio had told him to rest, Ignis spent some time going through their belongings, and packing their backpack with the things they would need whenever they finally got back on the road. Only after their travel pack was ready did he feel like he could sleep.
Five hours later, he woke, arranged a wall of pillows around Noct so he wouldn’t immediately fall off the bed, and then crept out of the room to go take Gladio’s place.
“Go back to bed,” Gladio said, sounding a little amused. “I can keep watch ‘til sunrise.”
Ignis shook his head. “I’m already here. Please, go stay with Noct before he wakes up and finds himself alone.”
Invoking Noct’s happiness or safety was the only way to make the stubborn shield change his mind about standing guard all night, and the only way to assure he’d get any rest. Knowing he’d been defeated, Gladio yawned, said, “alright, alright. See ya in the morning,” and disappeared until breakfast.
It went on this way, this rotation of roughly five-hour blocks, for the next two tense and mind-numbing days. Anything that needed handled inside or outside the house was done by someone else, as Ignis and Gladio focused on guard duty and Noctis duty interchangeably. Although Ignis was glad that one of them was with Noct at any given time now, he couldn’t say it was his preferred schedule. He found himself in a foul mood, not only because he disliked waiting for danger or help to show their faces, but because he’d started to feel rather lonely. Even when their Crownsguard jobs had taken them apart all day, he and Noct had still been able to have breakfast and dinner with Gladio, and still had the nights to quietly talk while they wound down from the day, and then silently appreciate the other’s company while they’d slept or laid there, pretending to. It felt wrong, now, to only speak to him in passing, or during the few moments when they changed shifts.
He supposed he would have to get used to it, anyway. Soon he would be without either of his two constant companions, with perhaps only Cor and a contingent of foreign dignitaries for company. He tried to remind himself to at least enjoy Noct while he had him in arm’s reach, rather than fretting about the friendship he’d partly lost.
If he had still been deluding himself about his rebellious streak, then Ignis might have looked back at the night of the raid and convinced himself that he had simply adapted to the situation deftly, that he had adopted a positive attitude when dealing with an adverse situation. In reality, in the privacy of his mind, he was glad things had gone so very wrong.
He didn’t think any such thing at the time, of course. He’d been half-asleep, somewhere in the very early hours of the morning, a few hours before sunrise and a little more than a shift-length before breakfast. He was about to rouse himself fully and go relieve Gladio of guard duty, but Noct woke before Ignis’ brain and body had regained full consciousness. Before he even realized that the baby was awake and starting to struggle towards the edge of the bed, Ignis absently noticed a faint red glow from Noct’s side of the bed, like from a half-obscured alarm clock. As his mind awakened, he noted it was not red like rose or red like blood, it was red like… pink, really. Not comparable to much else, except… perhaps… something he’d seen once or twice before…
By the time Noct was crawling over him, Ignis was properly awake, enough to restrain the child and realize something was amiss. Of the two times that Noct had apparently reacted to spirits, only one had been in time with danger, and the other had simply been in proximity to an interesting piece of architecture. But it was immediately clear to Ignis that this time was a warning. Had he not already been waiting for an attack, perhaps he could have reacted more calmly, but after the first time when Noct’s eyes had flared like a silent siren, there was little chance that Ignis would ever be able to see that radiant magenta color as anything but a warning against impending trouble.
And it was quite the timely warning.
Ignis had gotten up and dressed in a flash, grabbed the backpack he’d readied the day before, and was wrapping the squirming child (eyes still aglow) in a blanket he’d ripped from the bed, when the bell they’d placed by the front door started ringing wildly. Gladio burst through the bedroom door just a few moments later, wide-eyed but with his sword still sheathed.
“Ignis!” he yelled as he rushed in, almost skidding to a stop when he realized Ignis was already up and about. “You’ve got Noct?”
But even as he asked, Gladio could clearly already see that the bundle in Ignis’ arms had peeked up over the edge of the fabric and was blinking at him with two glowing spots of magic light.
“Have the soldiers come?” Ignis asked, aware that it was a stupid question. It seemed people could really only ask inane things in the heat of such a moment.
“They’re down the street,” Gladio explained, grabbing the backpack from Ignis and slinging it over his shoulders. “But there’s a shit-ton of them, and they’re not out for an evening stroll.”
They were already out into the hallway, as were at least half of the other residents of the house, looking around in bleary concern. But there wasn’t time for anyone to think; a series of heavy knocks sounded at the front door, followed almost immediately by a pounding that was meant to intrude, rather than call attention. Everyone scrambled for the back door, hoping the reinforced front door would hold.
In the crowd as everyone pushed out through the kitchen door, Ignis saw Gladio hesitate and turn back. “Iris!” he called, looking like he might dart back through the bevy of maids and attendants and the bundles and blankets they carried, and try to grab his little sister. But she was huddled with Jared and Joanna.
Jared, holding Talcott in one arm, with the other around Iris’ shoulder, shouted, “I have her, Master Gladiolus! Don’t worry!”
With only one more lingering moment of hesitation, in which Gladio and Iris locked eyes and Ignis imagined that he was silently apologizing to his dear little sister, Gladio tumbled out into the alley behind the house, and drew his sword, and trotted soft-footed towards the city’s south entrance, where Monica had told them to meet.
They passed groups of refugees as they wound down the streets they’d just become accustomed to, but even though the Crownsguard group were clearly in some kind of trouble, everyone minded their own business. Glancing back once or twice, Ignis saw some of the refugees quietly fill in the path behind them, casually blocking the way with crates or tents or their bodies, as if they knew by instinct that the fleeing group were allies, and whoever might be giving chase should be restrained and inconvenienced as much as possible. Perhaps they just wanted to cause mischief for the Nifs (because it wasn’t likely to be anyone else coming after a group like that), but it was appreciated regardless of the motive.
Even with the refugees being helpful, they couldn’t simply make a mad dash for the south gate. Nif guards were still stationed here and there among the crowds, and the group had to take a very long path through the labyrinthine city streets to avoid them. They zigzagged through the northeast part of town and up around toward the power plant, where the Imperial presence had been lighter, then back down towards the market, where they hoped to creep around the stalls. From there, there were only a few streets left before their path opened up to the wide sky of the city’s main boulevard and the canyon that caged it in on the other side. It was still dark enough that the stars glittered clearly in the night sky, perhaps an hour or more before dawn, and Ignis could only hope that once they reached the gate, someone would have a plan for the final leg of their escape, because the lot of them could not very well walk out into the darkness.
Hiding behind the spice stall that had always intrigued and irritated Ignis’ nose, Gladio gathered everyone together for a head-count. Everyone who they’d seen as they first left the house was still with them, though Monica and two other servants were still behind them somewhere. Nobody could spare the time to wonder if they’d left the house. Gladio gestured at the path ahead of them, whispering commands to those closest. Half of the servants were to go ahead, leaving the three children and their guardians in the middle. They’d sneak around this way, then that way, take the next alley right, and hug the left side of the hotel courtyard. The next right should be clear, and the path should bring them out near the south gate.
But as the procession began to change order, someone jostled the stall with their elbow and knocked a pile of fine spices down, triggering a hacking sneeze from several people in the group and several nearby refugees as it wafted past.
Everyone was immediately on high alert, including the two Nifs who’d been standing watch so quietly in the corner that they might have been asleep. They stood up from where they’d been leaning, armor clanking as they jogged towards the disruption. Rough sleepers were sitting up in confusion, which quickly turned to agitation and fear as they saw the soldiers running towards them.
In short order, the market turned to chaos.
Refugees scrambled out of their blankets, out of the way of the soldiers or the other refugees. Some instead got in the soldiers’ way, too tired and frustrated to care what happened to them. Stalls were knocked over, refugees were screaming as they tried to avoid getting trampled, and nobody could see exactly what was going on in the long shadows cast by the market’s soft lights. The Crownsguard group tried to take advantage of the confusion, hurrying along towards the market’s east exit, but soldiers were streaming in both from before them, and from the way they’d come, summoned by the commotion. At least a few of them seemed to be informed that they were looking for a particular group of people, and instead of engaging with the chaos, they ignored it and began hunting through the marketplace like scent-hounds.
“Shit,” Gladio murmured, as Ignis huddled behind him, holding Noct close in his blanket bundle. “This isn’t gonna work.” He turned to the assembled servants and maids, who made up the bulk of their party, many of whom were shivering in fear as they waited for Gladio’s command. It was like the day they escaped Insomnia, crowded together in the hidden hallway behind the tapestry, scared for their lives and for their kingdom and hoping to the gods that this young Crownsguard child would lead them to safety. He faltered, looking between each of them, reflecting their fear in slow motion as the enemy encroached upon them.
“Focus, Gladio,” Ignis murmured, both an order and a plea.
Gladio looked down at Ignis in mild surprise, as if he hadn’t realized the pit of despair he’d been falling into. But he nodded and swallowed down his anxiety. “Okay. Everyone, blend into the crowd. Meet at the gate at sunrise. Iris– stay with Jared. Watch Talcott.” He nodded, and although some of the maids clearly wished to stay in Gladio’s safe proximity, they broke apart into ones and twos and scurried off to join the crowd, until it was just the two young men and the fussing bundle one held.
Before Ignis could try to find a shadow to hide in, Gladio grabbed his arm and pulled him along after him. “I don’t think they’ll recognize the maids,” he explained, as he led Ignis behind one market stall and another group of refugees, under half-fallen tarps and past a statue that had been knocked over in the fighting that had erupted between the two sides. “But I can’t risk them recognizing you.”
‘You’, he’d said. ‘You guys.’ Ignis pulled the blanket back to glance down at Noct for the shortest of moments. His eyes still glowed, but he had them half-closed as he nuzzled against Ignis’ chest in distress. If anyone knew what to look for, Noct would be recognizable indeed.
“I imagine the whole city’s on alert now,” Ignis said, trying to keep as close behind Gladio as possible. “Where is there to hide?”
“No more hiding,” Gladio said, his voice rough, almost cracking with nerves. “Dave never showed up for his chocobo whistle. We take Priscilla, and run.”
A shiver ran through Ignis. “Into the night? Gladio.” And yet, the idea didn’t feel entirely wrong. An armored soldier passed two feet in front of them, tussling with an angry refugee. Two of the stalls had caught fire and were casting a dangerous glow on the scene. The enemy was nearly upon them, and there was nowhere else to go.
“It’s almost dawn,” Gladio assured him. He led them into an alleyway, keeping to the shadows and the clusters of refugees who’d been roused by the mounting noise. “Soon as day breaks in the east, we’re in the clear.”
“Alright,” Ignis said, trusting in Gladio’s plan. “But that whistle isn’t subtle. We’ll have to move as soon as you’ve blown it.”
“And hope she’s not far away,” Gladio added in a quiet mutter. He grabbed a couple of burlap cloths off a nearby table and tossed them over his and Ignis’ heads before he led on.
Knowing it could take Priscilla several minutes to make her way to them, presuming she was even in range to hear it, but knowing also that she wouldn’t go into the city proper, they crept to the most decrepit and trash-strewn alley they could find, and then blew the shrill whistle, ducking behind a pile of garbage and hoping the soldiers just ran past on their way to investigate. Several soldiers did in fact run past the alley, looking for the source of the noise, and as soon as they’d been gone a few breaths, Ignis and Gladio sidled out of their hiding spot and further toward the boulevard.
The back roads on the edge of the city were blessedly empty, only sparsely populated even by refugees, and they soon reached the boulevard, where the loyal, lifesaving chocobo was prancing nervously several yards past the mouth of the alley. She gave them an agitated ‘wark!’ and huddled down so they could board her faster, and they wasted no time getting onto her back and urging her out into the wide street.
But as soon as they turned right, bravely planning to run out into the night, away from the soldiers they were sure would be patrolling the road, they saw what had her upset, and which would have proven an obstacle even if they’d escaped the city in silence. At the south exit of the city was a contingent of no less than twenty soldiers, roughly half of which had the eerily glowing eyes of the Empire’s soulless Magitek automatons.
Priscilla danced away as the soldiers began to advance upon them, and Gladio yanked the reins in the opposite direction, prompting her to make such a drastic u-turn she almost fell over backwards. Ignis looked over his shoulder as they fled, loathe to take his eyes off such an enemy, but Gladio’s cursing drew his attention to the front, where several hundred feet ahead of them they could see the tunnel mouth that made up the city’s north exit was blocked by several military vehicles and a smaller but still dangerous group of soldiers.
Before they could even decide if racing past them was possible, soldiers began to rush at them from all corners and Priscilla darted to the right, the only direction free of enemies. She leapt over the railing and down to the parking level, landing with a muffled thud and pausing just long enough to identify more soldiers converging on their location. Ignis could feel her feathers standing on end all around him, as if she was trying to make herself seem larger and more intimidating, but she seemed to have no interest in standing her ground. She glanced left and right, then headed straight on to the east, where no one and nothing stood in their way: only miles of glittering sky, and the disc of Cauthess just visible in the distance, lit by the faintest glow.
She didn’t give them time to protest before she leapt off the cliff, and into the chasm below.
Notes:
Sorry for the cliffhanger! (lol no i'm not)
Chapter Text
Chocobos, much like the chickens their infant forms resembled, could not quite fly, but could glide well enough to land safely from a fall of any distance, even, apparently, when weighed down by several mostly-grown men.
Ignis knew this, but conveniently forgot about the fact for several long seconds, during which he was sure they were all four plummeting to their deaths, until he realized the air whooshing around them was just violent enough to rip the burlap cloths from around their heads and shoulders, and not quite violent enough to signify an impending meeting with the ground. But the light of Lestallum had quickly faded as Priscilla glided away from it, and it left them swathed in pre-dawn shadows, and with the wind rushing around them, Ignis had no way of telling exactly how fast they were moving, where they were in relation to the gorge they’d leapt out over, or how soon they would hit the ground (if, indeed, ground was what they hit, and not water or jagged cliff face).
“Astrals,” Ignis breathed, tightening his hold on the blanket Noct was still bundled into, and the pommel of Priscilla’s saddle.
“Just hold on,” Gladio muttered behind his ear as he huddled down closer as well.
“What else do you think I’m going to do?” Ignis grumbled. Of course, he did exactly as Gladio suggested. He held on for dear life, holding his breath for good measure, and eventually they came close enough to the ground that they could see it through the darkness. Street lights began to glow through the murk, and a little distance further they could see the blue sigils of a haven.
Within a few moments they touched down on asphalt, their momentum carrying them forward still. They leapt the barrier of the highway and into the grass on the other side and continued for another tense minute until they were enveloped by the haven’s light. Then Priscilla drew to a stop, and they all drew in a few heaving breaths.
As soon as he was sure his heart and lungs were in working order, Ignis pulled the blanket away from Noct and looked him over carefully, brushing his hair out of his eyes and murmuring calming nonsense. The baby was grunting in distress, trying to burrow back into Ignis’ chest, but he didn’t seem damaged or even too upset. More than anything, he was probably tired, and could probably feel his keepers’ panicked exhaustion.
“Should we move?” Ignis asked Gladio, even as they were both getting down from the chocobo. “The Imperials saw which way we went. Won’t they be heading after us?”
Gladio laughed. “What, you think they’re gonna jump over the cliff to get to us? They’ll have to go around, and as far as I know they can’t go out in the dark any better than we can. They’ll have to wait for morning.” He looked out into the dark, thinking. “Did ya see how many soldiers they had at the south gate? There weren’t nearly as many on the north. Makes me wonder if they knew where we were going.”
“You think we were compromised?”
Humming, Gladio said, “I dunno about that exactly. Maybe they just guessed. Pretty good guess, though, knowing we were leaving so soon, heading south.”
Ignis was not intimately familiar with the map of Cleigne, but he knew Lestallum was already on the northern part of it. “Well, nearly every town of note is to the south, isn’t it?”
“Guess so,” Gladio said. “All the ports, too.” He looked out to the south, as if he could see soldiers amassing on the roads and in the towns. Then he turned eastward, seeking out any trace of sunlight. “We should be able to go in an hour. We can make it to the next rest stop this afternoon. Old Lestallum’s about another day further.”
Although he nodded, Ignis wasn’t necessarily enthused by the plan, and Gladio could obviously tell. He frowned as he tried to read Ignis’ expression and intuit his intentions. He didn’t have to try very hard.
“You don’t wanna go.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to go–” Ignis tried to protest.
But Gladio shook his head. “Iggy, c’mon. You hardly wanted to go to Lestallum. The whole time we were there, you acted like they were gonna rip Noct out of your arms.”
“But that’s exactly what they were going to do!” Ignis replied, rather more heated than he’d intended. More calmly, he said, “That is what they were going to do. They were going to send me off to make nice with Tenebrae and leave Noct in the care of gods -know-who, and you wouldn’t be more than a distant watcher. And when they moved us all to some foreign embassy, assuming, of course, that the royal family of Tenebrae didn’t try to wrest Noct from his people entirely, then how could I be sure that we wouldn’t be stationed elsewhere because someone decided we’d do our jobs best at a distance?”
Ignis could hear Gladio’s deep breathing better than he could see his expression in the haven’s faint light. “I wasn’t judging you for it, Iggy,” he said, the edge of his voice softened in sympathy (or perhaps, hopefully, empathy). “I was just saying you can be honest with me. You didn’t think the plan was all that great. I don’t think I liked it that much either.”
“Maybe if we’d said something…” Ignis began, imagining the two of them standing up to Dustin and Monica and telling them outright that they didn’t agree with what had been decided. But it no longer mattered anyway, because the plan had fallen apart, and that afforded them an opportunity to change it– to change it to their liking.”Well, if we aren’t going to Old Lestallum, where are we going?”
A proud sort of smirk came over Gladio’s face; Ignis could hear it in his voice as well. “I’ve thought about that, actually. We should go where the Nifs won’t expect us.”
Raising a skeptical eyebrow, Ignis said, “I don’t imagine they’d expect us to go right back to Lestallum. They certainly wouldn’t expect us to return to the crown city, either.”
Rolling his eyes, Gladio laughed and said, “You’re not wrong, but I was thinking some place maybe a little less dangerous. There’s a hunter’s camp just northwest of here. You said it yourself, practically every town worth mentioning is in the south, and that’s where the Empire’s gonna be looking.”
“You think we should hide Noct in a camp?” Ignis asked, skeptical of staying more than a few days in a tent.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Gladio said, “but it’s more of a village. They’ve got shops. They’ve even got a restaurant. And more importantly? They’ve got a militia. Nif soldiers don’t stick around for long.”
The lack of Imperials was the most convincing aspect. Ignis thought even if they did have to live in a tent, knowing that there was a force willing to drive the Empire away was appealing. Imperial presence was the main reason that the idea of settling down in any established towns was nerve-wracking.
“Well,” Ignis said. “I suppose it doesn’t hurt to take a look, at least. If nothing else, it sounds like a decent place to catch our breath.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Gladio replied, although Ignis thought his exact thoughts were probably a little less temporary than that. They did need somewhere to live, after all, rather than just rest, and although ultimately that place would have to be wherever Noct was needed… well, the only thing anybody needed from Noct right now was that he stay safe. For the time being, this camp seemed like it might fit the bill better than anywhere else. Gladio clearly thought so.
They lingered around the haven for another half-hour, eating granola bars for breakfast while they watched the sky just start to lighten, evidence that the sun was rising over the desert, and would soon be touching the damp Duscaen morning with its rays. As soon as there was enough ambient light to see more than a stone’s-throw ahead of them, they climbed aboard Priscilla and began the journey northward.
Soon they came to the fork in the road where the Imperial blockade had been some weeks ago, on their journey toward Lestallum. There was no sign of Imperials, and not much traffic on the road; only one car passed during their approach.
“I suppose most of the refugees have found a place to land, by now,” Ignis guessed.
“Must be why Lestallum’s packed to the gills,” Gladio said. “Then again, maybe nobody wanted to get up this early.”
The several-mile trek up the mountain was much more peaceful at dawn than it had been at dusk, without the threat of daemons looming. They were able to take it at a more leisurely pace as well, trotting along at a speed probably only several times better than being on foot, rather than a desperate, break-neck rush.
“Y’know, this is kinda nice,” Gladio said from his position just behind Ignis. “A little like being on vacation.”
“I’m sure the reality of it all will come crashing down on us eventually,” Ignis replied, “but it is much nicer than fleeing for our lives, or being crammed into an over-crowded city.” He paused for a moment, quiet as the mountain air whisked past them. “I had started to feel like it might be that way forever, running and hiding with no reprieve.”
He knew they weren’t out of the woods yet, and might never be, as retainers to the royal family, and he expected Gladio to say as much, but Gladio said, instead, “That’s no life for a little kid. I’m gonna do everything in my power to make sure Noct doesn’t have to run and hide anymore.”
Ignis didn’t say that Noct was lucky to have him, nor did he say that he felt truly blessed to have Gladio at his side. He thought it silently as he relaxed between Gladio’s arms.
It was still quite early morning when the highway turned southward towards Lestallum, and not much later when they took a sharp right turn onto the road that continued further up into the hills. The elevation change as they climbed made the air feel thin, but it was so cool and crisp and fresh that it was still easier to breathe than in some of the more crowded conditions they’d found themselves in recently. The air, the sky, and the lush greenness around them felt free and unencumbered by the expectations of the city. Ignis found he could really understand why Gladio had enjoyed leaving the crown city so often.
“Should just be a few more hours,” Gladio said after they’d padded along the plant-lined road for ten or twenty minutes. “The map shows a parking spot about an hour ahead, if you wanna stop for lunch.”
“Unless you’d rather find a more scenic place to stop,” Ignis suggested.
“What, you wanna have a picnic?” There was a clear smile in Gladio’s voice, even if Ignis couldn’t see his face from there.
“Whatever you think is best.”
“Picnic it is!” Gladio replied. His hands, holding the reins, had been hovering just outside of Ignis’ slim personal space, but he pressed them against the tops of Ignis’ thighs, as if in lieu of a fist-bump, a nudge, or a hug. He rested them there until they’d passed the parking sign and the nearby old farm building and began to climb an even steeper hill, where he finally found a clear grassy spot he liked and pulled them off the road to settle for lunch.
Ignis had not looked back behind them during their journey, so when he slid off of Priscilla’s back and took a look around, his breath caught slightly at the view. They were miles above the Duscaen valley, and although the mountain stood in front of much of it he could see the vast expanse of land spread out below them. A few of the Disc’s stone arches could be seen reaching to the north, and further east the mountain range that separated Duscae from Leide was just a hazy line fading into the endless sky.
Noct was glad to finally be able to get up and stretch his legs in the grass; he’d apparently gotten used to toddling around the sitting room (followed closely by watchful Berta), so being wrapped up for several hours had him squirmy and irritable. Ignis tried not to be anxious as the little child walked around the moderately safe zone they’d cordoned off for him, a bush as one wall, a boulder as another, Priscilla’s body making up a third, but the view was so open and they were so high up that he couldn’t help fearing that if Noct tripped, he’d roll down the mountainside and never stop.
They hadn’t packed much in the way of food, so lunch was not much better than a snack, but they lingered there for a while anyway, trying to absorb some of the calm. But they were all eager to find their next little sanctuary, so they continued on after a while. It wasn’t long after that when they came to the mouth of a tunnel, and before that several armed guards. Gladio slowed Priscilla to a stop in front of them.
“Refugees?” one guard asked, looking bored but not lax.
“Sort of,” Gladio said, semi-honestly. “But hunters too.”
“Alright,” the guard said, motioning into the tunnel with his rifle. “Go on.”
Ignis wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but then he supposed these guards were mostly on the lookout for Imperials, as Gladio had said. As they entered the amber-lit tunnel, he could see there were other guards stationed periodically along its length, some leaning against motorcycles, presumably to act as messengers, should soldiers attack.
The tunnel was a mile or so long, about the same length as the one that enclosed the north approach to Lestallum, but without the aesthetic benefit of the windows cut into the east wall. With Priscilla at cruising speed, it didn’t take them long to come out the other side, and then they were just about there. Visible in the near distance, a little community huddled under a series of close stone arches that formed a large natural tunnel broken up by periodic skylights. In front of the small town was a chain-link fence, although its gate sat open. The half-mile approach was lined with grass for ten yards before the ground sloped upward into the mountain again, and nearly all the grass was covered in tents.
The road was kept clear, though, so Ignis imagined they must have had their own Cindy here, to keep things in order.
Heads raised as they passed, but despite the number of tents there weren’t as many people loitering about as Ignis had expected to see. When they were stopped at the gate, he could see why. The town behind it was abuzz with activity, mostly of the construction variety.
“No chocobos beyond this point,” the lady at the gate said, holding her hand up to halt them. She sounded matter-of-fact, yet not without compassion. “We’re hoping to set up a stable, but we have to focus on people-housing first.”
“‘Course,” Gladio said reasonably, getting down and helping Ignis and Noct down as well. He patted Priscilla’s neck and said, “We’ll be fine from here. Thanks for the help, girl.” Turning to the gate guard, he asked, “Who can I talk to about getting a place to stay?”
The guard looked a little unimpressed, as if she heard this question too many times per day and she knew Gladio wasn’t going to like her answer. “The general store sells tents if you need one, and you can set it up there, or there.” She gestured back the way they’d came, to some unoccupied space near the tunnel, and then deeper inside the town, where there was some space under one of the skylights.
Gladio gave her one of his most charming smiles. “Thanks, but I was hoping to find something a little sturdier. Y’see, I’ve got a kid, and–”
The guard cut him off with a sigh. She was clearly refraining from rolling her eyes, and Ignis thought if she was a little less patient she’d have pointed out that he wasn’t the only person who had a baby to take care of. “Workers have housing priority. If you talk to Roth, over by the hunt board, he might be able to bump you up the list.” She nodded them inside, looking rather like she didn’t want to deal with them anymore. Gladio gave her a friendly wave as they walked by. Ignis gave her a nod, which she returned. She spared a forced smile for Noct.
“So, whaddya think so far?” Gladio asked, as they made their way over to the hunt board, behind the general store on the left.
“It’s certainly geologically impressive,” Ignis replied, admiring the stone ceiling above them, the stone walls around them. “And it does seem somewhat better organized than other places we’ve visited.” He stepped around someone who was hammering something into the ground, and around another person who was running a long cable.
“Looks like they’ve put the refugees to work,” Gladio said, his emotions apparently mixed.
He was right to have some concern about that, they found when they spoke to Roth, the man who was in charge of organizing most of the town’s business. “Welcome to Meldacio,” he said as he looked them over, his arms crossed. “Looking for work?”
“Looking for a house,” Gladio explained, “but I’m told the two go hand-in-hand.”
“They do,” Roth admitted. “But I’ve got just about as many laborers as I can use right now. Full up on guards too. You can join the militia, and I hope you do, but it’s not a paying position. Until more jobs open up, you can grab a tent on credit, and there’s one free meal a day.”
Gladio mirrored the man’s stance, arms crossed, head cocked. “There’s gotta be somethin’ you need.”
Roth shook his head, but what he said was at odds with the gesture. “Sure. I’ve got a daemon I need dealing with, but that’s not your concern. Refugees aren’t in danger.”
“Yet?” Gladio guessed with a smirk. As nonchalant as ever, he said, “I’ll take care of it for you, but I need a place for my family.”
“Hmph. Fine. Find me here at dusk, and I’ll tell you where to go.” He looked over Gladio, and then at his ‘family’, clearly somewhat skeptical, though about which aspect, Ignis wasn’t sure. “And your family doesn’t get any special bonuses if you die, just so you know.”
As cocky as you like, Gladio rested a hand on the hilt of his sword. “Don’t worry, this thing isn’t for decoration.” He tilted his head suggestively at Ignis. “Ain’t that right, babe?”
“Please, dear, not in public,” Ignis replied, suppressing a snort and most of a smile. He turned to Mister Roth, and said, “Might we have that tent in the meantime? It’s been a long day, and my partner will need rest if he’s to risk his life for this daemon of yours.”
Roth tilted his head in the direction of the general store. “By all means.”
The general store was indeed handing out small tents on good faith, expecting to be paid back for them whenever the refugee could scrounge up the money or earn enough ‘credit’ by doing chores.
“That won’t be a problem,” Gladio told Ignis as they took the tent to a corner of open scrubland back by the tunnel, where Priscilla had already settled to wait for them, instead of running off into the hills. They set up a good twenty feet from any other tents, a little surprised that nobody else had taken the private spot. It was still well within the ring of lights that indicated the safe zone.
“You expect to be earning a fair living here?” Ignis asked. “Without acknowledging your credentials to those in charge?”
“I know, I picked a place with more supply than demand,” Gladio admitted, driving a tent stake into the ground. He used the pommel of his blade to hammer it down. “But if they’ve got daemon problems, then there’s still enough demand for me. I just wonder why the other hunters haven’t taken care of it yet.”
Ignis eyed him warily. “Do you think that might be a sign you’ve gotten in over your head somewhat?”
Returning the wary glance briefly, Gladio turned back to the tent. “Probably,” he said. “But it needs done one way or the other. And we need a place to sleep.”
“Well.” Ignis looked down at the half-assembled tent he could only spare one hand in helping with. “I’m sure this will do fine, for now.”
“What? ‘Til we find everyone else?” Gladio asked, seemingly unimpressed with the idea.
The conversation from early that morning returned to him. Neither of them wanted that. Gladio had been desperate to find the Crownsguard because he’d wanted to know that his sister was safe, and he probably still would have preferred to keep tabs on her, but neither of them had really felt the need to hand Noct over to somebody else’s care. At most, Ignis had felt himself floundering much the same way any of the refugees had, hoping for some security and some kind of guidance, but he hadn’t been as lost as… well, as he thought Monica and Dustin expected him to be. It seemed like the two elder Crownsguard had expected their junior members to come running back to them, to thrust Noct into their arms and beg them to take his responsibility.
But he couldn’t do that anymore, and trying to adhere to someone else’s plan for the prince had only felt grating. It wasn’t freeing, because he could never be free of the responsibility to care for Noct, even if someone else was feeding and bathing and soothing him. Even if Ignis was a million miles away, he knew he was still going to feel that biting need to provide for the child.
He knew the rest of the Crownsguard didn’t understand that. He wasn’t sure if they could. But Gladio did. And he didn’t want to rejoin the pack either.
“They will find us,” Ignis said quietly, staring into the middle distance at the mud and low brush growing between sparse tufts of grass. “And they deserve to know where he is.”
Eyes staring through the fabric of the tent, Gladio said, “Yeah.” He secured another corner and began threading rods through the center. “We should let ‘em get where they’re going. Old Lestallum or wherever. Then we can try to send them a message, just to let ‘em know we’re okay.”
“Fair,” Ignis said, nodding. “Should we tell them where we are? Or do you think they’ll storm the place to look for us?”
“And risk making a scene?” Gladio laughed. “Probably not. But you can bet they won’t just let us do what we want. I figure, best case scenario, they send Jared to babysit us. Worst case?”
“Berta,” Ignis responded automatically, feeling only mildly guilty. It wasn’t polite, but he knew Gladio would never tell.
Gladio snorted and tossed a grin Ignis’ way, but then he shook his head. “I think worst case scenario, the note never gets to them, and we get Nifs showing up at our door. Even with the militia, if the Nifs knew what they were looking for was here, this place would be toast.”
Ignis grimaced. “I had thought about that, how our presence puts the citizens in danger. I can’t decide if it’s a fair trade.”
“Only other option’s fucking off to the middle of nowhere,” Gladio said with a shrug. “I still think hiding in plain sight’s the safer bet, no matter the risk.”
Although he knew it was selfish to prioritize one person over the safety of hundreds of thousands of others, Ignis couldn’t help but agree. Even a whole city paled in comparison to Noct’s worth. After all, it would one day be Noctis, as king, who would protect the entire country.
Sometimes it was hard to remember that, when the toddler was beating his small fists against Ignis’ chest and whining to be set down. Ignis sighed through a tired smile and put the child down on his feet, and watched him immediately tear a piece of grass out of the ground and stick it in his mouth.
“Would that you ate vegetables with such zeal,” he murmured.
For the rest of the afternoon, they settled into what Gladio was adamant would be a temporary living space. Ignis showed Gladio what he’d packed for them, apologetic that it wasn’t much. There’d only been enough space for one change of clothes for each of them, and some food and toiletries. They did have a fair amount of gil stuffed into one of the backpack’s inside pockets, at least.
“Hey, it’s more than most of these people have,” Gladio said, grateful for Ignis’ foresight. Many of the refugees still only had the clothes on their backs, and whatever meager necessities the general store had loaned them.
When the tent was up and they’d sorted through their belongings, they went to investigate the center of town, or at least what was accessible of it. Even as the evening neared, scruffy-looking workers were running supplies back and forth across the half-mile stretch of the outpost, erecting platforms and scaffolding all over the place, both inside and outside the gate. It was difficult to get around some of the construction, but it was managed well enough that the businesses and amenities were kept unobstructed. Shoulder-to-shoulder, Ignis and Gladio carefully made their way through the crowd to the ‘restaurant’, which had once been an outdoor eatery but had transformed into a bustling breadline, and then visited the weapons kiosk, the hunters’ trading post, and the flea market that looked like it had popped up overnight.
Ultimately, Meldacio fell somewhere between his and Gladio’s expectations of the place, although the final assessment would depend on whether Mister Roth came through on his promise after Gladio took care of his daemon problem.
“Do you think I ought to go with you?” Ignis asked, as they waited at their tent for dusk to fall.
Gladio readjusted his sword belt and sheath, which he was lucky enough to have been wearing when they left. His new weaponry was all second-hand but good-quality gear that the Crownsguard had sourced for him when they found he’d lost what he’d been using before. Although of course Gladio had hated dropping the greatsword in their mad dash to reach the safety of Lestallum, this was for the better in the long run, as the other sword had been recognizably an Imperial weapon. Imperial weaponry was certainly available on the market (through various means), but a Lucian carrying one was liable to draw some attention, and none of it good.
“Who’d watch Noct? Priscilla?” Gladio shook his head and gave Ignis a grin that wasn’t entirely fake. “It’s fine. I got this.”
Ignis didn’t argue, because there was nothing he could have done anyway. But he did remind Gladio not to put his life on the line. “Just, remember you don’t need to prove yourself to anyone. Your safety is more important than your reputation, and I’ll gladly sleep in a tent if the alternative is you hurting yourself.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
When dusk began to settle over the outpost, Ignis followed Gladio back to the hunt board, where Roth was standing with his arms crossed, watching the refugee workers file into the evening breadline or back to their tents. He looked up when they approached, giving them each a once-over, like he was trying to intuit their whole story from that simple look. Ignis didn’t think he liked what he was seeing, or imagining. Perhaps they were too clean, after several weeks of city living.
“Taking your whole family with you?” Roth asked, somewhat scathingly.
“Nah,” Gladio replied. “They’re just here for moral support. So, what’ve you got for me?”
To his credit, Roth didn’t beat around the bush or try to string Gladio along any further. “There’s a daemon lingering at the edges of town. People have been seeing it for the past few nights, popping up when they go to take a piss and wander too far from their tent. It hasn’t attacked anyone yet, but people say it’s been… laughing.”
“Sure it’s not some kid?” Gladio asked, though he surely knew anyone would be able to tell the difference between a child’s laughter and that of a daemon. They were worlds apart, and even the most mischievous of children could never spark the fear that a daemon’s hellish voice could cause.
Roth shook his head. “They’ve seen it smiling. Sharp teeth glowing in the darkness.”
“So a Cheshire cat, then,” Ignis suggested wryly. “At any rate, it’s not a giant, at least. To my memory, they don’t have mouths.”
“Though we’ve only seen ‘em the one time,” Gladio added. “And I dunno about you, but it wasn’t exactly its mouth I was focusing on.”
Roth didn’t seem to care for their banter. “Whatever it is, it needs to go, before people start getting nervous. It’s been seen over by the east tunnel.” He gestured to the tunnel their tent was set up near, in case they didn’t know which one was east.
Ignis and Gladio shared a look. “Guess that explains why we didn’t have a lot of neighbors,” Gladio said with a huff of laughter.
“I don’t think it’ll venture into the light,” Roth told them. “But I never expected it to come this close, either. The damn things are getting bold. Used to be a clear sky and half a moon would keep them away. You’d go months without seeing one this close to town.”
He followed them as they left the town center, down the street toward the east tunnel. People were settling into their tents, and they watched them walk by with mild interest and faint wariness.
But when Gladio unsheathed his massive sword and slung it over his shoulder, people really took notice. Some stood up, like they might follow him, or perhaps run the opposite direction, and one or two called out. “Are you gonna get that daemon?”
The question was followed by a panicked muttering from the few people on this side of camp who hadn’t yet heard the rumors of the grinning monster, but those people wisely stayed near their tents.
“That’s the plan,” Gladio called back with a cocky grin.
When they reached the open space at the edge of the tent city, where Ignis and Gladio had decided to set up their temporary home, Roth turned to the few people who’d followed after them curiously. “Keep everyone back,” he told them. “We don’t need anyone getting hurt.”
The onlookers backed off, though they didn’t retreat so far that they couldn’t still see Gladio limbering up at the edge of the ring of light. After grabbing a few things from their tent, Ignis joined the watchful crowd. He hadn’t expected to get to see Gladio work, but then he hadn’t expected their problem daemon would be so close to the town. At least there was less chance of anything going catastrophically wrong this way. If nothing else, Ignis could haul Gladio to safety, if need be.
At this distance, he couldn’t hear Roth explaining to Gladio where the daemon had been sighted (or heard), but he could see the man gesturing about. Apparently the thing would appear on either side of the camp, often disappearing and reappearing elsewhere quickly, as if it could travel instantaneously through shadows. Ignis could see Gladio gazing into the darkness, thinking about how to bait the thing. Perhaps setting a quiet trap would have worked better for so tricky a creature. But traps were not Gladio’s way, and it wouldn’t have made for as much of a show– which this event was turning out to be, for the fifteen or twenty assembled refugees that stood around Ignis, and the many more who peeked out of their tents all the way down the line.
If this worked out well, Roth would have no choice but to reward them; if, somehow, Gladio failed to slay the beast, it might be humiliating enough to cut their stay short.
Nothing happened for a while. Half of the onlookers wandered back to their tents in disappointment (or perhaps relief), though the others seemed to figure there was nothing better to do than stand around, even if nothing happened. A few of them were bored enough to strike up conversation, idly wondering who this hotshot hunter was and if he’d be able to get the monster. They wondered, too, if it mattered; after all, more would come.
“Who is he?” one of the men asked Ignis. “He’s with you, right?”
“Yes, my husband, Gladio,” he told the curious onlookers. “He’s a fair hunter, and he has some experience with daemons. He should be able to handle this, if the creature decides to show its face.”
Roth had rejoined them by that point, not interested in backing Gladio up, as he claimed not to be much of a hunter himself anymore. “I manage Meldacio,” he said. “I can still hold my own, but I’m better with information than combat these days. I point the hunters in the right direction.”
That made enough sense. Even among the Crownsguard, they had people whose job focused more on intelligence and disseminating information than executing orders or fighting. They were all trained for it, but Ignis knew well that there were other ways to be a guardian than slaying monsters. It was why he and Gladio were paired together the way they were.
“May I ask,” he began, “why you didn’t set any of the other hunters on this task? This is a hunters’ outpost.”
“Most of them are busy,” Roth explained. “There’ve been a lot of marks lately. On top of that, it takes a lot of meat to feed this many people. There are only a few capable hunters in town tonight. If your… partner hadn’t offered, I would’ve asked one of them.”
Ignis noted the slight pause in Roth’s speech, similar to the skeptical tone he’d spoken to them with before. Did he see through their ruse of marriage, or did he simply find it so distasteful he struggled to acknowledge it? Either could be dangerous; he wasn’t sure which would be worse.
“I appreciate you giving my husband the chance,” Ignis said, hoping to sound genuinely grateful, rather than somewhat defensive.
Roth stared at him, sidelong. “Didn’t you call him your partner before?”
Internally, Ignis scoffed at the man’s memory. “I might have,” he responded. “He is that as well, of course. But sometimes I… still find myself surprised, when I remember that we’re married. It’s been a year, yet it still sometimes seems unreal. Like a dream.”
He hoped his excuse sounded real enough, just emotional enough to make him seem like the married young man he was portraying. He couldn’t tell if Roth bought it, because a noise and a flash of light from up on the hill caught their attention. Gladio had found the daemon and was clashing against it– or at least trying to. Most of his attacks bounced off its gelatin body.
“A flan?” Ignis cried, surprised. “That’s quite the opposite of what I think of when I hear ‘sharp-toothed grin’.”
Although, Ignis supposed he could see where people might have gotten such an idea. He was quite far from the battle, but he could see the globular creature leering at Gladio, strings of translucent ooze dripping across its open mouth, catching the faint light and approximating teeth.
Unfortunately, although Gladio was a good hunter and not a bad daemon hunter, flan were probably the second most frustrating thing for him to fight (after flying creatures). Anything his sword could not cleave in two was a difficult enemy, and even from the distance Ignis could hear the horrible monster chuckling in its sickly dark voice as it practically absorbed Gladio’s blows. It was, at best, a battle of attrition, Gladio heaving his sword at the blob then jumping away before it could swipe at him, little bits of the flan flying off as he yanked his sword back. But if Gladio danced too far away, the flan would spit a glob of mucus at him. Once or twice he narrowly avoided getting stuck in place.
It was difficult to watch, and Ignis tried not to cringe. Without being able to support Gladio in combat, all he could do was support him emotionally, and that included playing the confident spouse. He’d told everyone that Gladio could do it, and he had to believe that, or at least pretend he did. Plenty of other people were shouting encouragement at him, but Ignis could only watch silently, holding tightly onto Noct, who seemed a little confused by the commotion.
It got worse when the second daemon showed up. From the opposite side of the well-lit street they were all crowded on, just in the line of bushes where the light faded, came a terrible little laugh. It sounded like the burbling of a drain pipe clogged with rot, and it came from a faintly-glowing grin that bobbed up and down behind the chaparral brush.
The creature wouldn’t venture into the light, but it didn’t need to. It soon came out of hiding, the soft ember-light of its body growing to a blaze as it revealed itself to be a bomb. Grinning, it spit a ball of flame in a low arc all the way across the road, over both rows of tents, nearly hitting Gladio with its uncanny aim.
“Shit,” Roth cursed, throwing his arm out in front of Ignis as if it might protect him or stop him from rushing into danger. He glanced hurriedly over his shoulder at the people still assembled nearby, and those lingering some ways back. “Everyone, back off. Into town. Leave your tents, just go.”
Most people complied, many of them before he’d finished speaking. It wasn’t a stampede, but the refugees who’d started to settle into their tents for the night scrambled out of them, grabbing children and belongings, and trotted over to huddle together near the chain-link fence. Most of them looked irritated, but when their wide eyes caught sight of the fireballs being hurled in the too-near distance, they stopped complaining. Ignis, of course, did not follow them. He stayed at Roth’s shoulder as the man backed off a step at a time, never taking his eyes from the action.
The action in question was Gladio desperately trying to handle two distinctly different enemies at once. Long-range opponents were perhaps the third bane of his existence, and Ignis could practically hear him growling as he tried to figure out how to handle the bomb and the flan at once. The bomb had become the more dangerous of the two, chucking its globs of lava across the living space. Gladio backed off from the flan, trying to keep both it and the bomb in his sights as he split the distance between the two, returning to the well-lit road in front of the tunnel. The flan followed him as far as the darkness would allow, patrolling the edges of the light like a beast in a cage. The bomb kept spitting fire, which Gladio deflected with the flat edge of his sword.
“This is a little more than I was expecting!” he yelled from a hundred-or-so feet away, continuing to fend off the bomb’s grenades and keeping an eye on the flan in case it decided to try something.
“Calling it quits?” Roth called, though he didn’t seem at all judgmental about it. He looked nervous, for all that he hadn’t seemed to like Gladio that much.
“I said I’d handle ‘em and I will!” Gladio replied, his voice deeper than usual, with a threatening edge.
Groaning, Ignis yelled, “Don’t be stupid, Gladio! We need you alive!”
Gladio didn’t respond to that; he’d obviously already set his mind to defeating the two daemons plaguing them. It had become almost a personal challenge.
Roth backed them up another few feet, unsure what Gladio was planning as he took off his jacket and let it fall to the ground. He settled himself into a heavy stance then yelled back to them, “Cut the lights!”
With an accusatory glare in Ignis’ direction, Roth waved back to the gate, yelling, “Cut the east flood lights!” Then he asked Ignis, “Is your husband a daredevil, or a martyr?”
The man obviously trusted Gladio to some degree, or he’d have never agreed to endanger their camp further by inviting more darkness into their safe zone. Ignis decided the only way this would work out in their favor ultimately was if he continued to play the confident spouse. “Neither,” he said, though he’d had his own doubts in the past. “He simply knows what he’s capable of.”
It didn’t feel like that much of an exaggeration.
It took a few moments for the lights to shut down with a decisive k-thunk, during which time Gladio continued to fend off the bomb’s spitballs, deflecting them into smoldering puddles at his feet. But as soon as darkness fell, the two daemons rushed in, rushing towards Gladio, who himself rushed for the bomb. Ignis tried to understand what Gladio’s motivation was; after all, if he’d left the two monsters separated then he could have handled the bomb first, then run back to the flan at his leisure, though he’d have spent the greater part of the night hacking at it.
That was it, wasn’t it? Ignis thought, watching the scene with sudden anticipation. Alone they were irritating fights, and in the dark the two could certainly press the attack against him, but the appearance of the fiery bomb had actually presented him with an opportunity to use one against the other.
Indeed, though Gladio had to dodge twice the number of attacks now, he benefited from closing the distance by encouraging the bomb to fight up-close, and an up-close enemy was one he could hit. He danced away from them, his boots splashing through puddles of embers as he positioned the creatures where he wanted them. He hacked at the bomb to whittle down its endurance in favor of finding a weak spot that daemonic creatures seemed to lack. And when the time was right, he hauled back his sword and threw his whole weight on a swing that cut straight into the middle of the bomb, impaling its width along the long blade. And while it blazed in its death-throes, he swung the sword, bomb and all, at the mass of jelly-like flan, embedding the bomb’s smoking core into its translucent flesh.
Ignis let out a shaking breath at a resolution he could only call beautiful. Of course then the bomb exploded, sending flaming splashes of goo flying out in all directions, landing on the flammable surface of the most eastward tents, one of which was theirs. Far worse, one of the splashes hit Gladio square in the chest.
“Gladio!” Ignis yelled, rushing forward despite the dark and the numerous little fires it was barely lit by. Gladio dropped his sword and ripped his shirt off in haste, hissing at the burn. But he grinned when he saw Ignis running towards him, the expression both pained and pleased.
“Told ya I could,” he said, quite proud of himself.
“Are you hurt?” Ignis asked, gingerly touching the edges of the fierce red mark on Gladio’s bare chest.
“Barely,” Gladio said bravely.
The mark looked painful, but since he was still upright and managing that cocky grin of his, Ignis decided to let it go. He took a deep breath, leaned further into Gladio’s space, and found himself kissing him soundly on his softly-parted lips, a long, deep kiss of relief and adoration. He’d just meant for it to be a peck, but then Gladio leaned in and all their recent emotions seemed to flood through them. It wasn’t more than a few long seconds, interrupted by the onlookers who’d tailed only a few moments behind Ignis, but it felt profound.
They broke apart as people crowded around them, clamoring over Gladio’s safety and about how impressive the fight had been. (One person was complaining about their tent, but it got drowned out amid the compliments.)
“That was sick!” one young man enthused, staring at Gladio with sparkling eyes.
“Are you alright?” a woman asked, wringing her hands.
“We should get back to town!” someone suggested. “There could be more of those things!”
There would certainly be more daemons sooner than later, but the flood lights came back on as Gladio was picking up his sword and allowing himself to be ushered back to town to have his burn looked at. The rest of the night, at least, would be free of those particular threats.
As the crowd filtered back to their tents, or to the center of town as Gladio’s honor-guard, Gladio wrapped his arm around Ignis, tugging him and Noct close. “Noct okay?” he asked, looking down at the little child, who hadn’t seemed to realize they were in any danger, but was a little nervous about the commotion.
“He’s fine,” Ignis assured him. “...Although without a home for the night.”
Gladio laughed apologetically. “I didn’t expect the damn thing to explode. But, it was pretty cool, right?”
“I would say it was pretty hot,” Ignis countered playfully.
“Oh it was, was it?” Gladio leered at him with lidded eyes, startling a laugh out of Ignis.
“Positively sultry,” he replied, aware that he was standing on the precipice of being perhaps just a little too honest.
But of course Gladio didn’t take him completely seriously. He hummed in probably-feigned appreciation and said, “You should come hunting with me more, if that’s what gets you going.”
Ignis rolled his eyes, although he didn’t dislike the idea at all (aside from the logistical issue of keeping Noct safe). Their banter often had a particular cadence, and disagreeing was what he felt he ought to do. “Putting oneself in harm’s way just for the adulation is more your style, I think,” he said, hoping that Gladio knew he was just teasing. Ignis knew that Gladio truly fought for mostly noble reasons, and that he didn’t bask in the glory any more than he deserved.
Whether he believed Ignis or not, he didn’t seem offended. “You gotta take it where you can get it,” he said with a shrug.
By the time they reached the gate at their exhausted, meandering pace, the tent fires had been extinguished, a doctor had been summoned, and most of the town had settled back down for the night, knowing work would resume at first light. Roth found them and watched with his arms crossed as the doctor sat Gladio down at a wooden picnic table and pasted salve and bandages across his chest. When the doctor and the rest of the hangers-on finally left, Roth sighed heavily, staring at Gladio and shaking his head.
“That, what you did out there, was insane,” Roth said, emphasizing the key word’s two syllables.
“Thanks,” Gladio said flippantly, since it wasn’t clear whether the statement had been a compliment or a criticism.
“Thank you,” Roth replied, though he seemed less than pleased to do so. “You did what you promised, even though it got a little out of hand. I think the folks are even feeling a little safer now.”
Nodding, Gladio said, “That’s what matters.”
“Well,” Ignis began. “There is one other matter. I believe our tent is no more, and it’s getting a bit late to pitch another one.”
Roth frowned at Ignis’ comment. Whatever he truly thought of them, Ignis could tell he was a man of his word, and he’d promised they’d have priority on a home, and some place to sleep until then. “I can offer you floor space at my house for tonight. Nothing more.”
“You got a deal,” Gladio said, with a grin that was sure to win this man over eventually, if his heroic deeds didn’t.
So their first night at Meldacio was spent on the floor of Roth’s private rooms at the back of one of the storehouses, and though it likely paled in comparison to the comforts the Crownsguard had had in mind for them, neither Ignis nor Gladio (nor Noct, who was warm and fed and with his two favorite people) could be upset about it. It had been a very long day, and the life they’d briefly had in Lestallum felt ages away. And for all the safety and warmth they’d had while back in the fold, the opportunities that sat before them here were far more appealing.
Ignis didn’t know how long Meldacio would be home before circumstance led them elsewhere, but at least for the time being it was the place where the three of them could be together. Come what may, that remained the most important thing.
Chapter Text
Meldacio had become an incredibly busy place, half to the dismay of those few who’d lived there before. Yet it was only half dismay, because the residents of the hunter headquarters (which was now well on its way to becoming a full-fledged town) were also quite proud of the transformation, and how seamlessly the once-sleepy little rest-stop had opened up to those in need.
Roth was certainly of both minds, bothered that his home was being so intruded upon, and by people who had never held a weapon, no less– people who did not belong in a hunter’s town. But over the weeks, Ignis could see that irritation make way for determination to help guide this place toward a better version of itself, even if that meant it was no longer exclusive to his people. However, he did still favor hunters and others like them: people who could and would go out of their way to protect themselves and others, to secure resources and use them for the betterment of their town. That was why he got along so well with Gladio (and by extension Ignis), once his initial stubbornness about the outsiders began to fade.
Ignis had wondered if the man had been skeptical and defensive about them because he didn’t believe their claim that they were married, or if it was because he did believe them and did not approve. But he never figured out which it was, if either, because Roth’s attitude had changed too quickly to study, which, of course, Ignis was not complaining about. On their second day in Meldacio, they woke on the floor of Roth’s tiny living room, finding that the man had already stepped around the huddled pile of Ignis, Gladio, and Noct between them, and was making a pot of coffee in his tiny kitchen. He met Ignis’ eye when he sat up and looked around blearily, and the look was… at least marginally less judgmental than the night before.
“Coffee?” the man had offered, holding up a mug.
“My gods, yes please,” Ignis had responded, untangling himself from Gladio and Noct with a speed unknown to most mornings.
The two men sat at the small dining table and silently bonded over their morning joe. Ignis felt he suddenly liked Roth at least twice as much, a shift in attitude the man could probably feel. Things only improved from there.
It would have been a stretch to say they were treated like honored guests, but that day Roth invited them to follow along after him as he saw to construction and posted bills for monsters he heard about from the travelers always streaming in. He gave them a more detailed tour than they’d been able to give themselves the day before, introducing them to the several shopkeepers around town, the chef and her assistant, the gate guards and roaming peacekeepers, the managers overseeing specific building projects, and the few hunters who were around town. As he’d said before, most of them were busy at any given time, keeping their larder stocked or tracking down monsters who’d been giving refugees trouble. There was some crossover there with the militia and guards, especially when it came to repelling Imperials.
“I’m impressed,” Gladio told Roth as he explained their various systems for keeping the place safe. “Especially that you’ve kept the Nifs away. Been to Lestallum? ‘Occupied’’s a gentle word for it.”
“I haven’t left town since this whole thing started,” Roth said. “But I’ve heard. Traders get stopped at every corner, they say. Lestallum’s got power, but no way to protect it. They’ll be fueling a new Imperial stronghold before long, mark my words.”
Whatever the fate of Lestallum, the people of Meldacio seemed keen not to share it. Even the refugees, who’d seemed so downtrodden elsewhere, were energized to help build, patrol, train, or at least stay out of the way of those who were. Perhaps it was the fact that they all had, at least, a tent to call their own, something of a home to care for. Roth had claimed the tents were only temporary; as soon as they could, they’d be moving people into the homes they were assembling. They were little more than shacks, but they’d be a significant upgrade– again, until they could build something better. Even so, the people took good care of their tents, decorating them, or adjoining them to willing neighbors, or building little fences with sticks and stones. Anything to make them feel like they were theirs.
Because of the daemon mishap, Ignis and Gladio missed out on the opportunity to make their own tent into a home, but they had a new place before the end of the second day.
“I value my privacy,” Roth said, as if he needed an excuse to get them their own place as quickly as possible. He gave Ignis a hint of a smile, though. “But you can stop by for a coffee, from time to time.”
Their new home was in the center of town, just across from the general store, a little ways behind the gate. Compared to some of the other free-standing shacks, it was quite decadent. Whereas most of the new constructions were (for the time being) single-room affairs perhaps the size of the shacks they’d stayed in while on the hunt for Dave (with tent-flaps for doors and windows, because hinges and glass were in short supply), theirs began with a sturdy little building once used for housing some sort of machinery. It had a real door, and a real window, with functioning locks on both. Behind it sat a shipping container joined to it as a sort of hallway, attached to which was a bedroom of comparable size to the one they’d shared in Lestallum. It didn’t yet have a bed; in fact, there wasn’t a single piece of furniture for it, but when Roth presented it to them he promised they’d fill it out soon. He even envisioned plumbing, one day. Electricity was right around the corner, he claimed.
Ignis felt some amount of guilt for taking one of the first finished homes, as there were plenty of people who’d been waiting longer than them, but not many people seemed to mind. It appeared that most people had heard the tale of Gladio’s daring, show-stopping fight with two monstrous daemons the night before, and especially when word went ‘round that he had a spouse and a small child, the consensus was that he deserved the place– if only so that he wasn’t tempted to move on and take his combat skills elsewhere.
Gladio would have wanted to stay even if they had had to live in a tent for the foreseeable future, but it was nice to have a more permanent place, anyway. And Roth kept his word: within the first week or so, they had a mattress to pad the floor of their bedroom, a few chairs and a small table to eat at, a sink basin (despite the lack of running water), and a little chest of drawers for the few items they’d brought with them or managed to acquire since then. Over the next weeks they continued furnishing the place with bits and pieces they traded for from traveling merchants or hobbyist craftsmen: rugs, cushions, blankets; basic kitchenware; shelves and things to store on them; even a few toys, and the odd book or two. By the end of the first month, the ramshackle little house really looked and felt like a home– if not one you might expect to find a prince in, which suited them all perfectly well.
As far as Ignis could tell, nobody suspected that Noct was anything other than an average toddler. He was shy around strangers, sleepy when he wasn’t getting into trouble or fussing about something, and keen on putting everything in his mouth. He clinged to his ‘Dada’ and ‘Giggy’ and his moogle plushie, and greeted most others with a suspicious stare, unless they offered him food. He was just like any other child his age.
Of course that didn’t mean that people weren’t curious about him, and about his two fathers. Most of the refugees still kept largely to themselves, but they were starting to open up, as the town became more settled, and sometimes people would strike up conversation with Ignis while he was waiting in the breadline or for a spot to become available in one of the public bathrooms.
“He’s cute,” they’d often start, smiling at Noct and usually not getting a smile in return. But that was toddlers for you, and they never seemed deterred. The question they asked next would depend on if they recognized Ignis or not, which was roughly half-likely at a month in. “Is his mother around?” they might ask, if they did not recognize him.
His response varied dramatically depending on the day. “She passed when he was young.” “I’m afraid not.” “Only his father and I.” Once he said, “I am he,” although that seemed to confuse the asker more than the other responses.
When they did recognize him, and knew he was living in town with his ‘partner’ (as not everybody knew the specifics of their story), they sometimes asked, “Is he adopted, or…?”
And although it was a yes or no question, it couldn’t be answered as such, partly because he and Gladio had not really discussed the details. “Essentially,” he might say. “In a manner of speaking.”
And sometimes the ‘or’ was, “Or did you have a surrogate?” A question which carried with it the implicit curiosity over which, if either, of Noct’s two fathers was his real father, presumably so the asker could mentally relegate the other to the role of auxiliary support parent, as if their opinion mattered.
Their opinions didn’t matter, because nobody in Meldacio or most anywhere else knew the first thing about their complicated relationship, yet it still bothered Ignis.
“I’ve spoken to people about this a few times,” Ignis told Gladio one night while they were having a meal he’d actually cooked, rather than grabbed from the soup kitchen. “But I’ve always tried to give generic answers.”
“I mean, he’s adopted, right?” Gladio shrugged. He’d obviously put a little less thought into this particular issue than Ignis had, although Ignis didn’t fault him for that.
“That’s the simple answer,” Ignis admitted. “But I’ve seen the way peoples’ expressions change when I imply that. As if they’re wondering where he’s from, who his real parents are.”
Gladio hummed. He could see where Ignis was going with this. “And we don’t need people wondering, even casually. Hmm. I guess telling people his parents died wouldn’t be much better.”
“It might keep people from imagining, but I’m afraid it’s too close to the truth.”
“So…” Gladio cocked his head. Noct, with a fist full of food, mimicked him. “We had a surrogate and I’m the dad, since we’ve both got dark hair?”
“That does make the most sense,” Ignis said, sighing. “It’s the most plausible.”
He’d started to think perhaps he’d become too transparent with his emotions, or that he’d let his guard down so much around Gladio that he was wearing his heart on his sleeve without realizing it, because Gladio looked at him with understanding and pity in his eyes. “You wanna be related to him. Iggy, that’s fine. If that’s what you wanna tell people, go ahead. I’ll stick to the story.”
Ignis' shoulders sank, some tension draining out of them as a strange sadness drained in. “It simply isn’t believable. Aside from the fact that Noct looks very little like me, what same-sex couple would choose me as the biological parent instead of you?”
The look Gladio gave him was exasperated, pleading with him to open his damn eyes. “Uh, how about a couple that wants their kid to be a genius instead of a lunkhead?” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not saying I’m stupid, I just know other people think I am. Anyway, you’re just saying that because you’re not attracted to yourself. Nobody else in the whole world would doubt we’d pick you to be the dad. And hey, if he doesn’t look like you, that’s just genetics. Besides,” he added, “I don’t look shit like my dad, except maybe the eyebrows.”
“Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll grow into it,” Ignis teased, although his heart wasn’t in it. He ate a bite of whatever was on his plate, hardly tasting it. “I suppose I just wish I could say that he was both of ours, so people would understand that he means the world to us both.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Gladio said, standing up to grab a second helping. “He’s yours, and you’re mine. So that makes him mine too. Simple enough.”
His words made Ignis feel unexpectedly warmer. “You’re right,” he said, smiling down at his plate. It didn’t fully settle the tumultuous thoughts in his mind, but it softened his concern about them. They might have to decide on a specific story one day, but this was good enough for now.
The other thing people sometimes asked Ignis while they were all standing around, waiting for something or another, was where Gladio had learned to fight like that.
“Hunting has been his passion since he was young,” Ignis told them. “I believe his father taught him.” It was nice to be able to speak the truth for once, and if anyone asked about his father (wondering if perhaps he was a well-known hunter himself), Ignis could easily claim that he hadn’t been close with Gladio’s family. Given their relationship, and Gladio’s seemingly roguish nature (because of the tattoos, the muscles, and hair which had begun to grow wild), people were willing to believe the two might have cut ties with whatever family they had.
It was funny how true that was, in such a way nobody would have expected. They’d indeed cut ties with their ‘family’-- snapped them, more aptly, when they’d run for their lives and taken the opportunity to create a new one. But that was something else they had to address at some point. As much as they dreaded coming into contact with anyone who might upend the stability they were building for themselves and for Noct, Gladio eventually decided it was time to do what he’d said he would. The Crownsguard deserved to know that the prince was alright, even if they didn’t know how or where.
To that end, Gladio sat down with Ignis one evening a few weeks into their stay, and drafted a letter. “Hmmmn, not really sure what to write,” he said, tapping his pen on the table.
“‘Noct’s fine, take care of Iris please’,” Ignis suggested semi-sarcastically.
In the end, what they ended up writing was roughly thus: ‘Sorry for disappearing. We’re all doing fine, don’t worry about us. If we need you, we’ll find you where you were headed before.’ It was probably much more vague than the Crownsguard would like, but even they would have to admit it was the most information they could send through an unsecured channel. Short of traveling to find them, it was the best they could be expected to do. As it was, there was no guarantee the message would even get to them, and if it didn’t then they’d have no way of knowing.
They sent the message with a merchant who was heading to Old Lestallum, addressed it to Iris A., and hoped someone from the Crownsguard would check with the diner, where mail was being delivered in lieu of personal addresses. They signed it ‘I&G&N’. Then they went on with their lives.
For the first time in Ignis’ memory, his daily life was simple, verging on peaceful. There could only be so much serenity in the life of anyone who was raising a toddler, but the fact was that raising Noct was his primary goal, and for once he could devote himself to that without being distracted by fear or scarcity or conflicting orders. Meldacio was as safe as anyone could ask for, and although resources weren’t exactly abundant, Noct and Ignis rarely wanted for anything, mostly thanks to Gladio.
As soon as he’d slain those two daemons, Gladio had been drafted into every combat position available. Technically anyone who could wield any sort of weapon was part of the militia, under the assumption that they would fight off an Imperial invasion if it ever came to that, but Gladio was on the front lines, assigned several weekly shifts on guard duty. With his skills and attitude, he was asked to patrol a ways out from the town, so he might intercept Imperials before they came anywhere near the settlement. And apparently he had. It was only the second week when he came home with a bleeding gash on his shoulder.
“You should see the other guy,” he joked, as Ignis dropped his book and rushed at him.
“What happened?” he asked, darting to the kitchen corner to find a rag to sop up the blood with. “And moreover, why haven’t you seen a medic?”
“Imperials,” Gladio answered simply. “And I just wanted to check in first.”
“Check in?” Ignis frowned at Gladio’s nonsensical answer. “Gladio, you need to take care of yourself.”
“I know,” Gladio said with a slightly uneasy grin, probably because the wound was finally beginning to sting sharply. “I just… wanted to make sure you guys were okay.”
Ignis paused, the rag pressed to the neck of the eagle Gladio had tattooed over his shoulder, and he looked up into Gladio’s eyes, thinking maybe they were both wearing their feelings a little more openly these days.
“We’re fine,” he told him softly. “No Imperials here. You’ve seen to that.”
As bad as it had looked, the gash didn’t scar much. Not enough to obscure the eagle’s outline, anyway. Only if you looked closely could you see any disruption to the design.
“No big deal,” Gladio said a few weeks later, once it had healed. “But I’ll need to get this thing finished someday, if I can find an artist. I’m sure a bunch of them escaped to Altissia or someplace artsy like that.”
“I can’t see Altissians being particularly fond of tattoos,” Ignis mentioned. “But I wish you luck, nonetheless.”
When Gladio wasn’t patrolling, he was hunting. Sometimes on his own, and sometimes with other hunters, he ventured out to find beasts suitable for feeding large numbers of people, or tracked down marks posted to the hunt board. Hunting marks paid quite well, but hunting for food was well-rewarded too. Everything Gladio did was so valuable to the town that Roth and the others in charge made sure he had everything he and his family needed, and as many of their desires filled as possible. And nobody begrudged Gladio that, not only because they all wanted to eat, but also because Gladio was undeniably likeable.
For one thing, he voluntarily patrolled the outskirts of town each night when he was available, looking for any daemons that might be lingering nearby. He didn’t stand watch all night, and with his own family waiting for him nobody expected him to, but even taking a quick look made people feel more secure. It was a bit like a father looking for monsters under his child’s bed before they slept, except that the monsters could be real, and had been before. Luckily, daemons didn’t show up to battle him very often.
“Perhaps word has gone around about you,” Ignis suggested, when Gladio came back after another evening patrol, pleased but mildly perturbed by the calm. “In the underground, or wherever it is that daemons live.”
But Gladio wasn’t hard at work all the time. He resisted being gone for long stretches too often, because he still remembered his one true goal: care for Noct. Ignis was able and willing to do most of the parental grunt-work, but Gladio seemed to dislike the idea of not being there when it mattered, so he took only the jobs that were needed to keep them comfortable, and half-again the jobs that were asked of him. Plenty more hunts and patrol requests went to others, because Gladio was not interested in spreading himself more thin than was necessary, especially not at Noctis’ detriment. So that meant he was around often enough for the people of Meldacio to interact with him some, and even without revealing much at all about himself, it was still quite clear that he was friendly and charming.
Being well-liked was good, as it kept them in good standing with the town, but there was one downside to Gladio’s charm– the same downside he’d faced before, one which might not have bothered him if he wasn’t living a lie. Not frequently but still too often, he was approached by various smiling women (and occasionally men), who wanted to know him better. More often than not, it was single mothers gravitating towards him while he was out and about with Noct. It happened more often if Ignis was busy elsewhere, but he’d witnessed it personally a time or two as well. Apparently they just didn’t seem like spouses unless they were arm-in-arm. That, or sufficiently desperate singles were able to overlook any indication that Gladio was taken.
At one point they were perusing a new shipment of weaponry when they were approached by a young mother, who sidled up to stand beside Gladio. He was holding Noct on his hip, standing back just a foot or two as Ignis peered at the edge on a set of blades. The woman stood there quietly for a moment, holding her own toddler, as if she was looking at the knives and swords displayed in front of them. Then she asked in a cute voice, “Is there anything good today?”
Ignis glanced over his shoulder, but otherwise ignored her. Gladio looked over at her and replied, “I dunno. Depends what you’re looking for.”
“Oh… I’m not sure,” she said, a smile in her voice. “I don’t really know how to fight. I’ve seen you at it, though. You look so impressive, I thought… maybe I should give it a try some time.”
“You should,” Gladio told her, and Ignis could hear that he’d turned on his usual charming smile, but only the generic one, not the one he reserved for when he needed to persuade someone. “It’s good to know how to protect yourself, and your family.”
The woman rubbed a hand down her arm; Ignis could hear the sound of skin sliding against itself. “Oh gosh, I… I wouldn’t know where to start. Say, do you think maybe you could give me some pointers some time?”
Gladio hummed. “Really depends on what kind of weapon you’re using.”
“Oh, well, whatever you recommend!” the woman said cheerfully.
“I can’t really give recommendations without taking a closer look,” Gladio said, and Ignis imagined he was shrugging.
He knew what Gladio had meant by that: to start someone training when they didn’t have a weapon proficiency, he’d have to get them in a training ring, have them do some stretches and try out a few weapons to see how they handled. But the young mother giggled breathlessly and said in a voice that was so sweet it was sickly, “I don’t mind giving you a closer look. We could go right now. My house is just around the corner. It’s one of the new ones too!”
There was just a short pause before Gladio said indulgently, “Oh, really?”
Ignis was so appalled that he completely forgot the knives he was looking at and turned around to stare at them, probably with his mouth open in disgust.
Gladio caught his gaze, amusement sparkling in his eye. “Hey, babe. This girl’s inviting us to her place. Sounds like she’s interested in some… training.”
“Is that right?” Ignis asked, mimicking Gladio’s indulgence. He stood to his full height, prompting Gladio to do the same, and together they stared down at the poor woman, whose expression was just starting to imply she’d realized she’d made a mistake. “It has been some time since I’ve trained anyone. Perhaps I could do with the exercise.”
Gladio’s expression was positively lewd as he told the girl, “We’re used to going one-on-one, but hey, could be fun. Spice things up a little. Blow off some steam.”
“Spicier than usual?” Ignis asked, raising an eyebrow at Gladio. “After last night, I can hardly believe you have any spice left.” He adjusted his collar, as if obscuring any number of hickies, and then gave the woman’s neck a good, long look.
“Oh, I, um.” The girl’s voice was suddenly much less sweet, wavering over the few syllables. “Y-you know, I should probably just… I’ll… look into it on my own, I think. But, um, t-thank you.”
She gave them both a last look, all the way up and down, her face caught in an expression somewhere between terror and desire, before she turned and hurried away.
They watched her for a few moments, before Ignis turned and gave Gladio a fondly exasperated stare. “Was that really necessary?”
Gladio laughed through his nose, just this side of wheezing. “Hey, you were the one who ran with it.” He reached out and flicked Ignis’ collar. “Whatcha hiding under there, Iggy? Something… spicy?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he replied, though Gladio obviously did know. They slept about a foot apart, if that, and usually not fully clothed. “But you know, that could have gone very wrong, if the woman had been any more desperate to… make your acquaintance.”
Chuckling, Gladio waved the idea off. “Nah, it would’ve been fine. I woulda just followed her home and gave her a lecture about swords. Maybe Noct coulda had a play-date with her kid.”
“Perhaps we really ought to make finding new wedding rings a priority,” Ignis suggested, “to ward off such encounters.”
“You could just hold my hand in public,” Gladio countered with a shrug.
“I suppose it would be cheaper,” Ignis grumbled, although he was pretty sure Gladio knew he didn’t actually mind– either the hand-holding, or the lack of wedding ring. He grabbed his loose hand and threaded their fingers together, just to make it clear.
After that, they were sure to hold hands at least periodically while they were out and about. On top of that, Gladio took to planting kisses to Ignis’ face at random moments– mostly innocuous places like his temple, or maybe his ear if he thought someone was looking too hard. Ignis did his best to weather the affection as if it was exceedingly normal to him. In time it did become less shocking, but even after months of the casual public displays, Ignis still found himself suppressing some stronger reaction, most of the time. Luckily his poker face was sufficient.
Every so often, Gladio still came home with stories of someone hitting on him when Ignis was not by his side, but there was little they could do about it. (Even wedding rings probably wouldn’t make much difference; not everybody stopped to inspect an attractive man’s hands before coming onto him.) Ignis couldn’t be by Gladio’s side constantly, even aside from his dangerous hunts. There were still the usual household errands to keep Ignis busy, and after they’d had a few months to settle in, he also began to take his own jobs around the town. These primarily consisted of helping out at the soup kitchen, or minding the general store when the shopkeeper needed a break– things he could do while holding Noct with one arm, or strapped to his back.
At first, Ignis’ instinct had been to keep away from peoples’ eyes, likewise keeping Noct hidden away for his safety, but he came to realize that it was more suspicious to stay away from others. When he did venture out, he caught more attention than he felt like he ought to, simply by virtue of being somewhat unknown. Once he began to stand behind the counter at the store or the diner, doing nothing of interest whatsoever, people stopped looking at him, and therefore they stopped looking at Noct, which was exactly what they wanted.
By Noct’s second birthday, the anniversary of the attack on Insomnia, nobody was even remotely curious about their little family (aside from the occasional newcomers, who mostly ogled Gladio until they saw Ignis on his arm). Things had become so normal, so incredibly simple, that some days Ignis didn’t wonder when everything was going to fall apart. Some days he forgot to anxiously await the arrival of either Imperials or Crownsguard, vying to take Noct from his arms. Some days it slipped his mind that Noctis was not his child, Gladio not his spouse. Some days he didn’t think about the fact that they were living a lie, because it had begun to feel like truth.
And some days it came crashing back to him, and all he could do was sit and wait for the dizziness to pass.
But most days, he was just glad that another day had passed, and so far– so far– everything was fine.
Chapter Text
A few years on, Meldacio had grown enough that it began to resemble a real town. It sprawled out from under the grand stone arches it had once sat nestled under. The mile-long road from the west tunnel to the east tunnel was now fully lined with buildings, piecemeal though they were, and between some of the buildings, running north and south, were other dirt and gravel roads, along which more buildings sprang up. Here and there, amid the dry chaparral, farm plots had been set up, and small ranches. And at regular intervals, sturdy spotlights shone down on everything, to keep the daemons at bay.
It was nothing like city living. It lacked the neon signs, the constant traffic, the omnipresent pavement. Most of the city’s most sought-after amenities were still missing, and likely always would be, but smaller versions of them began to appear. People ran little restaurants out of their homes, selling just what they could cook or bake with meager or primitive equipment. They started selling handmade wares, or offering simple services. There were a number of people you could visit to get your hair cut, and to Gladio’s delight, someone began offering tattoos. Once a month he would schedule a day to go get a section of eagle feathers shaded in. It would still take years to finish, but the progress was satisfying.
Nearly all of the houses had electricity (although the fledgling grid was often overtaxed), and many had plumbing. Roofs kept rain off peoples’ heads, and lights kept them safe. Hunting, farming, and trading kept food in peoples’ bellies. The militia kept Imperial forces from their doorstep. Soon the refugees stopped being refugees. The Insomnians would always be Insomnians, but for many, Meldacio had become home.
Similar towns were popping up all over the place, according to traders, so not everyone who came to Meldacio stayed long-term. Supposedly Lestallum was still bursting at the seams, and Old Lestallum had become quite revitalized, despite its proximity to an Imperial fort. But those were also popping up everywhere, it seemed, so most folks didn’t have a choice about avoiding them. Galdin Quay was said to be the nicest new settlement. Alstor Slough had been so thoroughly colonized that the towns that sprang out of Alstor Coernix Station to the north, and Wiz’s Chocobo Post to the south nearly met in the middle by Neeglyss pond. The prairie outpost hunter’s camp was Meldacio’s eastern twin, and hunters from either sometimes traveled between them. Longwythe had apparently become a proper town, as had Hammerhead.
“I wonder how Cid and Cindy’re doing,” Gladio said when he heard. “Maybe we should go back and visit ‘em sometime.”
“That would be nice,” Ignis agreed. But they both knew it wasn’t plausible. Although traveling between towns was easier than ever, due to their new proximity, the Empire had never quite relented in their search and surveillance, and there was no telling when you might be stopped on the road. So while Gladio did sometimes visit neighboring towns during his hunts, Ignis and Noctis stayed safe in Meldacio. The furthest they ever traveled was a day’s journey west to the Vesperpool, where they occasionally went camping when Noct was old enough. He barely even knew that there was a whole wide country sprawling out to the east, a country they’d fled through on their journey from their old home to their new one.
There was always the option of going on chocobo-back, though, darting through plains and forests to avoid crowded towns and streets and the Imperials they attracted. In fact, they still had Priscilla at their disposal, and Gladio frequently took her on hunts. They’d meant to get her whistle back to Dave as soon as possible, but he hadn’t shown up while they were sequestered away inside Lestallum, so they’d held on to it and cared for Priscilla as if she was their own.
Then one day, a few months after they last spoke to him, Dave came into town on hunter business, and Ignis happened to see him. He and Noct had been helping distribute food at the little outdoor diner, which had become the de facto soup kitchen. There’d been a plan to move the hunt board somewhere less busy, but nobody had gotten around to it yet, so when Dave wandered in to check for marks, he was a stone’s throw from Ignis.
For a moment, Ignis didn’t believe what he was seeing. So much of their initial few weeks as refugees had revolved around finding this man that he’d worked himself into some kind of specter in Ignis’ memory, even though they’d met in person. He seemed almost unreal, especially as they’d failed to meet him again after that first time, as if perhaps he’d been an apparition. But Ignis gathered himself together in just a moment and called, “Mr. Auburnbrie!”
Dave turned and had a similar moment where he seemed to wonder if he was seeing things, but his face lit up in a friendly smile when he determined that Ignis was most likely real. “Hey there,” he replied, winding through the crowd of hopeful diners towards the table behind which Ignis stood.
Ignis turned to his boss and frowned in apology. “I’m sorry, I need a few moments. Do you mind?”
The woman shook her head and shooed him away. “Go on,” she said. “We’re good for the evening.” She handed Noct a stack of crackers as a parting gift and to thank him for his patience while his father worked.
Ignis nodded in thanks, and then nodded for Dave to follow him around the back of the general store, where it was quiet enough to talk. “You’re a difficult man to contact,” he said, laughing as he shook hands with Dave. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“Same to you,” Dave replied. “On both accounts. Did you know your people are still lookin’ for ya?”
Stiffening up at the mention of the Crownsguard, Ignis glanced around to make sure nobody was listening too closely. “I assumed so,” he said quietly. “Have you spoken to them? Where are they?”
“I seen ‘em a few times, yeah,” Dave said. “They’re split apart now. Got a few in Old Lestallum, some of ‘em way down at the Cape, and a few more watching out around the Disc. I think maybe some went back to Leide.”
“Are they actively searching for us?” Ignis asked, feeling a bit shaky.
Dave considered the question, then considered Ignis. “I dunno. Why? You don’t wanna be found?”
Ignis took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, biting his lip. “It’s… complicated. Gladio and I decided it was best for Noct to settle somewhere… anonymous. We sent a letter to Old Lestallum to let them know we escaped Lestallum safely.”
A chuckle rose up out of Dave’s throat. “Ah yeah, I met ‘em just after that. They weren’t none too happy about it, but they looked like they were tryin’a pick up the pieces and carry on.” His face turned a little more somber when he said, “I’m sure I’ll see ‘em again before too long. I can keep a secret, but are you sure that’s what’s best?”
Shaking his head, Ignis said, “I’m sure of very little these days, but I know that Noct’s safety is priority, and I’m confident that I need to be by his side to ensure it. Though they may have good intentions, not everyone agrees on that point. So for now, yes, I’m sure.”
“It’s gonna be a bitch pretendin’ I ain’t seen you,” Dave said with a sigh.
“I’m sorry,” Ignis said, “but I appreciate your cooperation. We’re settling in well here, and Noct deserves to have a normal life, rather than the one I’m afraid some of our people are hoping for him. He’s not two years old. He doesn’t deserve to be saddled with such heavy expectations.”
Dave’s smile was soft when he replied, “Well I can see his daddy’s takin’ good care of him.”
Ignis could feel himself blush from the compliment. “Yes, speaking of ‘daddy’, you ought to see Gladio while you’re here, if you’re not in too much of a hurry.”
“I can hang around a little while,” Dave said. He followed Ignis across the street to their little home, which had recently been fitted with electricity (but not yet plumbing). They turned on the lights in lieu of opening the windows, and waited for Gladio to return from his patrol shift. He showed up less than an hour later, and without any grievous wounds this time.
He had the same moment the two of them had had when they saw each other, staring at Dave in surprise. “Well, fancy meeting you here!” he said, closing the door behind him and hanging his greatsword on the wall, out of Noct’s reach. “Oh, damn! I’ve still got your bird!” He rummaged in his pocket, where he tended to keep Priscilla’s whistle.
Dave shook his head and held his hand up to stop Gladio trying to return it. “You keep ‘er. Seems like she’s been helpful. I heard about your daring escape from Lestallum. One of your Crownsguard maids said she saw ya’ll jump straight into the gorge.”
Gladio laughed at the memory, as if it hadn’t been fairly traumatizing in the moment. “Yeah, that was all Priscilla’s idea.”
“Is that what you call her?” Dave asked, laughing and raising an eyebrow. “Well, if y’all like it, then it’s a good name.”
“Did you call her something else?” Ignis asked, though he assumed she’d had some other name before. “Gladio felt it was rude to keep calling her ‘bird’.”
Dave shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I think the new one suits her. Might like to see ‘er again, though.”
Since the edge of town where chocobos tended to stay was just as private as their home, they took their reunion down to the outskirts, where Dave and the newly official fourth member of the Scientia family could say their hellos and goodbyes. If Priscilla understood that this was Dave saying farewell, she didn’t seem particularly bothered. But then, she went wherever she liked when she wasn’t needed, so perhaps it wasn’t goodbye if she didn’t want it to be.
“She’s a good bird, but I’ve been goin’ by truck lately,” he explained as he scratched both hands through Priscilla’s thick feathers. “She wouldn’ta got her exercise with me. Anyway, there ain’t much I can do for y’all, definitely not as much as I’d like, so if this helps then I’m more’n happy for it.”
“You’ve already been a tremendous help,” Ignis assured him.
Gladio nodded. “And if you can keep us a secret, you’ll be doing us an even bigger favor.”
Dave looked over to Gladio, then down to his arms where Noct sat, looking curiously at the big bird he hadn’t seen much since their arrival. He smiled a little sadly at the child. “I can’t claim to know what’s best,” he said, clearly seeing through Noct to the possibility the Crownsguard always saw in him. “I’m just like anyone else; I love my country and my king, and I wanna protect ‘em. But it ain’t my job. I just gotta trust you guys’ll see it through.”
“We’ll do our best,” Ignis told him. “And hopefully that will be enough.”
“It will be,” Gladio said, closing the distance between them so that Noct was wedged between their bodies.
All Dave could do was wish them well and promise he’d drop by again sometime. “I don’t know why you’re avoidin’ the others, but if I hear they get wind of ya, I’ll letcha know.”
If it came down to that, Ignis didn’t know if they’d run or stay, but he was fairly sure that with every day that went by, both of them were more strongly set on remaining the way they were– not necessarily in Meldacio, but as Noct’s parents, no matter where they went. There would be hell to pay, for anyone who made them leave his side, whether friend or foe.
But at least for the time being, they were happy to stay where they were. Even if Priscilla could get them safely to another settlement, even all the way back to Hammerhead, where they might have some allies who would trust their judgment, it was just simpler to stay put. It let them focus on what was important.
And what was important was Noct, every minute of every day.
Almost every minute of every day.
Most of the time. Ignis or Gladio had their eyes on Noct most of the time. But as he got older and a little more self-aware and self-sufficient, it became harder to coddle him like they might have when he was just a year old. He certainly became harder to hold all the time. Ignis was sure his back and arms were nearly as strong as Gladio’s (relative to his size, at least) from the strain of carrying the toddler around as he shot up in height and weight. He was still fairly small, compared to other children of his age, but holding him more often than not was tiring, especially as he learned he could walk on his own. Soon he could be found alternating regularly between wanting up and wanting down, running amok and needing cuddles desperately.
And before too much longer, he wanted down more often than not. That was easier on Ignis’ back, but harder on his nerves, as he had to watch Noct toddle around the house, getting his little hands on every item he could find– all the better if it was dangerous, of course. Then soon after, he was running around the town, twenty steps ahead of Ignis at any given time, until his natural shyness kicked in and he returned to hide under Ignis’ legs, little fingers wrapped in his belt loops if his hand wasn’t available.
Naturally, he soon stopped running back to hide, stopped clinging to his big, strong parents. He began to face the world on his own, staring down much of it as if it had offended him.
On one hand this development was nerve-wracking and heart-breaking, seeing the little child he was sworn to protect, his child, straying so far from the safety of Ignis’ arms. On the other hand, taking care of a very young child was painfully exhausting, and every time he went off on his own (though, of course, always close enough that he or Gladio could leap to the rescue), Ignis couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. Being able to do chores, or even just drink coffee, without Noct underfoot was always a small blessing.
But then when too much time passed, anxious longing began to crawl through Ignis’ heart like so many insects, and he had to check on Noct, just to see if he was alright. He’d put down whatever he was working on and walk softly into the bedroom, just so he could make sure nothing had somehow happened to Noct while he was looking at his picture book. Noct would look up at him very seriously and say, “Iggy?” (Or he might say “Idnis” or “Ignits”; it was a learning process. At that point he was introducing himself as “Not”, and Gladio as “Gaddy”.) He’d stare, waiting for Ignis to say something, and if he wasn’t quick enough, Noct would probably ask, “Ist dinner time?”
Ignis wasn’t sure if watching your children grow up and become independent was this hard for everyone; he thought it couldn’t possibly be. Most average parents hadn’t been trained since early childhood to care for someone else. Most of them weren’t guardians of future kings. Most people who raised children weren’t burdened with the knowledge that people wanted their kid dead.
But most of the time, neither was Ignis. His devotion to Noct had much less bearing on any of those things than they should have. If the Crownsguard could somehow peer into Ignis’ mind, he was sure they’d be appalled at the image of Noctis that lived in it. Ignis’ Noct was a grubby little child who loved any food that wasn’t a vegetable, hated having his hair brushed, and didn’t have the first clue that he was important to anyone other than his fiercely devoted parents.
The Noct in Ignis’ mind was the real Noct: the one who lived in Meldacio, not in an imaginary version of Insomnia that hadn’t burnt to the ground. The one that was, not the one that people wished for.
The Noct who lived in Meldacio also started going to public school when the little schoolhouse opened up a few years in. Ignis could hardly imagine Prince Noctis sitting in a crowded little room, surrounded by twenty commoner children who hadn’t had baths all week because half of their houses still didn’t have plumbing. The Noctis that people imagined would have been homeschooled exclusively by the best of tutors, or enrolled in private lessons with his upper-class peers. In fact, Ignis was initially set on homeschooling Noct; it was something he was fairly certain he was capable of, and it would keep Noct close. In addition, there was simply no other option for a while.
So for the first few years, Ignis did his best to teach Noct his numbers and letters, colors, shapes, and animals. When he had those down well enough, Ignis started teaching him history as bedtime stories: tales of how the Astrals had made the planet, and how Eos eventually came to be ruled by man. He sprinkled in stories of Lucis’ past, but didn’t get into too much detail about its recent history, for obvious reasons. Noct would learn it all eventually.
By the time the little school opened, Noct was fairly proficient in reading and writing, history, math, and nature science, and had a basic grasp of economics and cooking. Ignis actually worried he might have taught Noct a little too much, and that he might stand out among the other children (who, raised as refugees, probably hadn’t gotten much schooling at all), but as it turned out, he’d worried for nothing: in class, Noct was too lazy, shy, or generally uninspired to volunteer any answers. He got good marks on his tests (once he was old enough for that kind of schooling), but didn’t stand out in the slightest.
The school itself was retrofitted from one of the pre-existing buildings in the center of town. Once the idea for a school had been raised, it was agreed that it should be built in the safest place available, shadowed by the town’s great rock arches and therefore protected from Imperial ambushes. Those happened rarely enough that it wasn’t a real threat, but the common consensus was that if it ever happened, the children should be as far from the fighting as possible. Hence, the school was a block inward from their house, nestled between the little town hall and one of the two bath-houses. Surrounding it was a picket fence that created a small playground, and made everyone who walked past it feel like maybe things were really getting better. The sight of children playing on improvised swing-sets and jungle gyms was apparently quite good for morale.
Few teachers had settled there, but the several who did were more than happy to take up their past professions again. Each gaggle of similarly-aged children were overseen by one teacher for several hours, before they all went home to make room for another group and their teacher. Several times per week, a parent or other resident was asked to guest-teach so they could impart some knowledge of whatever they happened to understand better than average. Ignis was a regular guest teacher for the youngest kids, more than able to teach basic concepts for nearly every subject, but when the older kids’ teacher asked if he could help, he paused.
“I’ve heard you’re a wizard with the younger kids,” Miss Sanders said. Her expression was earnest and flattering, but not on the level that Gladio still often received. “If you’ve got the time, maybe you could guest-teach for the older kids a bit? We’re mostly making do with a collection of textbooks, but I don’t really understand the material well enough to teach it very confidently.”
Ignis was almost positive he could teach a group of middle school children anything they’d need to know for a standardized test (not that they had much standardization in a country so torn apart), mostly from memory; he thought he’d even be able to handle a high school curriculum, if they had a textbook or two to cross-reference. But being that well-educated might have raised some flags. He’d claimed to be a business intern, when he’d told people his and Gladio’s fabricated story. According to that tale, he would have still been in his first few years of university at the time of the attack. There was just no plausible reason for him to have post-graduate knowledge, let alone a strong grasp of primary and secondary grade-level curriculum. As far as he understood, most people forgot most of what they learned in school as soon as it was no longer relevant.
“I’m sorry, Miss Sanders,” he said with an apologetic smile. “I appreciate the offer, and the vote of confidence in my intelligence, but I’m afraid I’ve exhausted my pool of knowledge with the younger children.” He felt guilty about leaving the older kids to fend for themselves when he could have taught them just about anything they wished to know, so he made a compromise. “I may be able to discuss socio-economics, if you’d like,” he offered. “And… perhaps a cooking class.”
Miss Sanders brightened considerably at the idea. “Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Scientia! They’ll be bored stiff by the economics, but I think the cooking will more than make up for it.”
She’d been right, of course. The group of ten-to-thirteen year old children were desperately uninterested in learning about business, and loved learning to cook and bake, but by the time the school-year was over they were all raring to start their own restaurants. Ignis considered that a success.
Aside from his guest-teaching days, it was difficult for Ignis to let Noct go to school all by himself for several hours. Even though he typically walked him there and walked him home and sometimes went to check on him during recess, Ignis couldn’t help worrying that something might go wrong while he was away.
“What could happen?” Gladio said, quite rhetorically, when he realized Ignis was uneasy about Noct’s absence. “Maybe he gets a papercut, or he catches a cold from one of the other kids.”
“Or he could be bullied,” Ignis countered.
He hadn’t ever quite experienced bullying himself, but he knew that if he’d continued on in public school he’d have probably been tormented for being too smart, or for his glasses, or for something as stupid as his name. Even in the exclusive private schools he’d transferred to, the other children hadn’t gotten on with him. Making friends had never come natural to him, and for all that Noct was not truly his child, Ignis feared he might share that particular trait.
Gladio rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. “No offense, babe, but do you really think kids are gonna bully him less if his dad follows him around all the time?” He shook his head. “You gotta give him some room. We’ll be here to protect him from real danger, but he’s gotta learn how to navigate social stuff on his own.”
Ignis was of the opinion that Gladio was downplaying the harm that social ostracizing could cause because he’d never dealt with anything like that. He was charming and well-liked, after all, and seemingly had been that way since early childhood. But even if Gladio was wrong in his assessment, he was right with his advice. Ignis had to accept that Noct really did need the freedom to be on his own sometimes, even if it was lonely trying to carve out a place for yourself in the world.
It was lonely for Ignis too, especially as Noct settled into his own.
For maybe four or five hours every day, Noct was at school, learning and at least attempting to make friends, and Ignis had to stay away, for the good of both of them. Some days that left he and Gladio alone together, but just as often as not Gladio was out hunting, and Ignis was left by himself. Being alone was not a problem; he’d never minded solitude, and he was adept at quiet contemplation. There were household chores he could do, and errands to run around town, and sometimes he worked at the kitchen or the general store, but even when he was surrounded by people, the loneliness began to sink in. Without Noct there, Gladio’s absence was more potent. And without Gladio there, Ignis more keenly felt the separation from Noct.
And all of this was by far worse when Gladio met Aranea.
Chapter Text
The three of them had settled into a routine in the past several years, where Ignis primarily handled things on the home-front, while Gladio split his time between town and the wilderness between settlements. Often, Gladio patrolled and hunted on his own, capable of bringing down most average threats without too much effort, but from time to time he joined up with other hunters. There was safety in numbers, and having a partner allowed him to go after bigger game, and bigger threats. He’d apparently made friends with most of the hunters who called Meldacio their home, as well as a few who roamed from town to town as needed, like Dave did. Over the years he passed by several times, crashing at their place when he did. It was always nice to see him, especially to get what little news of the Crownsguard there was.
But around the time Noct started school, Gladio met another wandering hunter, and their friendship sprouted like a weed from the dry brushland around them. Ignis didn’t know about it at first; Gladio didn’t tell him about every person he met on the road, and Ignis didn’t expect him to. But once they’d hunted together a few times, they’d apparently struck up enough of an accord for Gladio to bother mentioning her. He did it so casually that Ignis
might
not have thought anything of it.
“I’m heading down to River Wennath tomorrow,” he said while they were having dinner one day. “Aranea says there’s a group of sahagin that’s bothering the fishermen. It’s close to Burbost. You want anything?”
“Candy!” Noctis shouted, a little bit of mashed potato flying out of his mouth.
Ignis gave Noctis a stern look and handed him a napkin. “Noct, please. Don’t speak with your mouth full.” He turned to Gladio. “Who’s Aranea? One of Roth’s associates?”
“Nah, met her through one of the other hunters,” Gladio told him. “She hunts down south most of the time, but comes up around Lestallum sometimes. She helped me and Jerry take down that griffon last month. You know, out by the disc. Saved our asses, actually.”
In fact, Ignis
did
remember that hunt, from Gladio’s description of it the month before. He remembered all the hunts Gladio told him about: where they were, what they sold for, who he’d partnered with. Gladio hadn’t mentioned an Aranea helping them then.
“I see. I don’t need anything from Burbost, thank you,” he said, instead of talking about this lady hunter any further.
He didn’t know why the mention of a lady that Gladio had apparently befriended the month previous suddenly put Ignis on edge; Gladio had hunted with many people over the past several years, and plenty of them had been women. Perhaps it was that Gladio had somehow failed to mention her in that time frame, as if he was hiding her existence. But if he was, why would he mention her now? A slip of the tongue? A guilty conscience that he’d been hiding?
It was probably nothing, Ignis told himself, as he went back to dinner, then busied himself with cleanup. He was overthinking an inconsequential matter. But he continued to overthink it as he fell asleep, wedged between a softly snoring Gladio and a faintly mumbling Noct (who’d taken to sleeping on the outside edge of the bed, as if he
liked
rolling off in the middle of the night).
Ignis turned his head to look at Gladio, illuminated by faint moonlight and close enough that he was in full focus even without glasses, and his heart fluttered in that once-familiar way. When they’d been on the run, he’d feared that Gladio would leave him and Noct to their fate, to fend without him as he made his own way, and every time the little moth in his heart would beat its wings against his chest, frantic, but so small and soft it could almost be ignored.
Just like Ignis could almost ignore the worry that if Gladio formed more lasting relationships, he might forget the
ever
lasting one they were playing at.
Perhaps the flutter would have gone away for good, if Gladio had stopped mentioning her. But week after week, he came home with stories of the wild hunts he’d gone on with Aranea, who was apparently staying up north more these days.
“Took down a rare Cockatrice with Aranea today,” he would say one day, cheerfully handing over a few pretty feathers he’d plucked from the beast.
Next week it might be, “Aranea showed me a cool move,” as he demonstrated (without his sword) a fancy flourish in the small space of their living room.
“Went fishing for lunch while we were out in Duscae earlier,” he’d say the week after. “Aranea caught this
huge
catfish.”
And Ignis couldn’t even be mad about it, because he’d brought half the fish home, along with the pay from the bounty.
Noct certainly wasn’t feeling any of the ill-will that Ignis struggled not to. “She can fish?” he asked excitedly, metaphorical tail wagging. “Can she take us fishing?”
“We’ll see,” Gladio answered, and even just the possibility was enough to keep Noctis excited for the next week and a half.
If it was just Gladio talking, Aranea this, Aranea that, then maybe Ignis would have been able to ignore the tension growing in him. But the next month, the woman in question showed up at their doorstep on one of the days Gladio had planned to take off from hunting. Noct was at school at the time, so Ignis had been organizing the kitchen area while Gladio was working on the new loft they’d added to the ramshackle house.
“May I help you?” Ignis asked when he answered the door to find a stylish, silver-haired lady who looked a little older than them. His eyes immediately went to the spear on her back, and then to her assortment of well-tailored armor pieces.
“Is Gladio in?” she asked, sounding friendly despite her smoky voice.
Ignis tilted his head at her. “And who should I say is asking?”
“Sorry,” she said with a short laugh, extending her hand. “Aranea. Highwind. He and I hunt together. And you must be…?”
“Ignis. Scientia,” he replied. “His husband.” He forced himself to take her hand, and tried to give her a cordial smile; he wasn’t sure he succeeded in the second, but Aranea’s expression didn’t falter.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, as cordial as Ignis had been hoping for.
“I’m sure,” Ignis said automatically, drawing back. “I’ll fetch Gladio. Just a moment.”
He closed the door in her face and locked it for good measure– not because he wanted to keep her out specifically, but because one could never be too safe. Trying to keep his footsteps calm and even, he went to the back of the shipping container hallway and stood in front of the ladder, glaring up into the space above him. “You have a guest,
dear!”
he called. He tried not to tap his foot, waiting for the several reasonable seconds it took for Gladio’s head to peek down into the hall.
“Who is it?” Gladio asked as he began climbing down the ladder. The hallway made an echoing thump when he jumped off the last several rungs, despite the number of soft rugs and padded furniture they’d packed it with. There was just no hiding the fact that it was a shipping container underneath it all.
“Your hunting friend, Aranea,” Ignis told him, and he tried not to bristle at the way Gladio’s eyes lit up like a child on their birthday.
“Huh. Wonder what she’s doing here.” His voice was softer and higher in his unbridled enthusiasm, and Ignis wondered if Gladio knew. He went to the front door and undid the lock, and opened it with a soft grin. “Hey. What brings
you
to town?”
“Just passing through,” she said, taking a jaunty stance with her arms crossed. “Actually, there’s been so much monster activity up here lately, I thought I might settle somewhere north for a while.” Tension rose in Ignis’ veins as he expected her to claim she was moving to Meldacio, but luckily for his blood pressure, she continued, “I’m looking at Capitis town, up by the ‘pool.” She gestured west, towards the tunnel that led to the Vesperpool. “I thought you might wanna grab a drink while I’m in town.”
Gladio grinned at the offer. “Sure! There’s a little tavern out by the east tunnel. Makes their own ales with a kinda wheat that only grows ‘round here.” He turned to Ignis, with that youthful look in his eye. “Wanna go? You said you wanted to try their amber with that whole wheat bread they make.”
Ignis felt his mouth go dry, and he stared between the two of them, who were both already angled towards the front of town. “I… can’t. I have to pick up Noct soon.”
Looking at the shadows cast by the stone arches overhead, Gladio raised an eyebrow. “You’ve still got an hour. And even if you
did
lose track of time, it’s barely a block. Noct’s made it home on his own before.”
That was true, actually, as they’d been trialing letting the five-year-old walk back from school with his gaggle of peers, all of whom lived much further out from the town center, and he’d handled it just fine. And Ignis could easily take a stroll down to the edge of town, have a leisurely lunch, and walk back within the time allotted, if he
really
wanted to make sure Noct was supervised. There was no good reason not to go. They could afford it without concern. He was even hungry.
Suppressing a sigh, he said, “Alright. Lead on.”
Gladio and Aranea headed off down the road together. Ignis closed the door and trailed after them; he didn’t bother locking it, in case Noct did have to go home himself.
The two hunters chatted animatedly as they walked, and Ignis tried not to feel like a third wheel. It was immediately clear that the two of them got along famously. They even looked good, strolling down the street together. Gladio was easily a head taller than Aranea, but the woman had such a presence that she seemed to match him, and the length of her wicked-looking lance made up for any visual differences.
The three of them ordered beers and sandwiches and sat down around a heavy wooden cable reel that served as a table for the makeshift tavern’s outdoor dining area. Ignis watched from the corner of his eye as Gladio and his lady friend continued joking and talking about hunts both past and future. He wished he’d brought a book with him, so he could at least pretend he was focused on something instead of staring out at the town as it bustled around them, avoiding catching either of his companions’ eyes. Gladio still tried to meet his gaze from time to time, probably so used to including Ignis in things that it was second nature, even if he was truly absorbed in his conversation with Aranea, and Aranea herself sometimes glanced curiously at Ignis. As soon as the food was delivered, he tucked into it, glad to have an excuse for not paying attention to them.
But the conversation had to turn towards him, eventually, whether because Aranea was genuinely curious, or just because she was attempting to be polite. “So, how long have you two been together?” she asked, leaning back in her folding chair, one slender leg crossed over the other.
“Hard to remember, after all this craziness,” Gladio said with a laugh. “What’s it been, Iggy? Six years?”
“Thereabouts,” he replied shortly.
“Wow,” Aranea said, as if she was truly (though perhaps mildly) impressed. “So you must’ve been kids when you got together. You’re just, what? Twenty…?”
“Four,” Ignis said. “Five, in Gladio’s case.”
“Highschool sweethearts, huh?” Aranea gave Ignis a smirk that was somehow very different from the one Gladio always wore. “How sweet!”
He couldn’t tell how sarcastic she was being, and he barely refrained from glaring at her in the suspicion that somehow she knew they were lying about either their age or their relationship. In truth, they weren’t even old enough to
be drinking
(by city standards, at least; apparently the limit was much more lax in the countryside), though at least they were adults, now, after years of pretending. Could Aranea tell that the two of them weren’t nearly as close in age to her as they were claiming? Could she tell that they weren’t the happily married couple they were pretending to be?
Did she care? The way she was laughing with Gladio, did it matter to her at all that he was supposedly married?
Gladio and Aranea were both three beers in by the time Ignis’ internal clock said Noct would be getting out of school. He’d had most of a pint, and half of a sandwich, and wasn’t interested in any more, so he stood from his folding chair and smoothed down his pants. “I need to be getting back,” he told them, making it clear that he didn’t expect them to follow. “It was nice to finally meet you, Miss Highwind.”
“Aranea, please,” she said. “Nice meeting you too.” She gave him a saluting wave goodbye, and went back to her drink.
Gladio stood to see Ignis off. “I’ll be home in a bit,” he said, leaning in to press a quick but slightly sloppy kiss to Ignis’ mouth. He smelled and tasted sharp. “See ya, babe.”
“See you at home, dear,” Ignis replied, turning away quickly as a stone seemed to settle on his heart. He couldn’t even muster the energy for the pet-name to sound anything less than defeated.
The children were just spilling out into the school yard when Ignis arrived, waiting alongside the several other parents who had come to walk their kids home. One of the mothers caught Ignis’ eye to give him a friendly smile, but the expression turned sympathetic very quickly, and he had to fight to put a smile on his face in return.
Noct noticed Ignis’ mood as well, although not immediately. He ran up to Ignis, grinning as he grabbed his hand. “Iggy, can Prompto come over?”
A little boy with messy, pale-blonde hair stood at Noct’s shoulder, looking hopefully up at Ignis with huge eyes. Prompto had quickly become Noct’s best friend over the course of the past month or so, and now he spent at least half of his after-school evenings at their house. The boy was an orphan, having presumably lost his parents in the attack on Insomnia, when he was too young to remember, and he lived in a home on the edge of town that functioned as a small orphanage. Apparently he wasn’t close to the caretaker, or his handful of orphan siblings, so Ignis couldn’t tell him no whenever he wanted to come by, even if it wouldn’t have disappointed Noct as well.
“Of course,” he said, giving them both a soft smile and leading the way home.
“Thank you, Mister Skencha!” Prompto said, with the only manners he probably knew.
“‘Skee-encha’,” he reminded Prompto, not expecting the five-year-old to actually get it right. “But ‘Iggy’ is fine.”
The walk was only about a minute, but it didn’t take that long for Noct to realize his father was in a mood. “Did you fight with Gladdy?” he asked, looking solemnly up at Ignis.
“Of course not,” Ignis told him. “We’ve never fought before. Why would you think that?”
Noct didn’t answer him, even though he was too young to assume the question was rhetorical. “Then why are you mad?”
Ignis breathed carefully and answered, “I’m not mad, Noct.”
For a moment, Noct was quiet, and they continued walking. Then he said, “Did you mess up a recipeh?”
A short laugh bubbled out of Ignis, and he rolled his eyes, both at the child’s innocent assumption, and at his Imperial pronunciation. (Nobody in the household ever said ‘recipe’ in a modern Lucian accent; as soon as Ignis started cooking regularly, Gladio apparently found his pronunciation of that one particular word funny, and took to playfully copying him. Noct was just following the trend.)
“Yes, that’s what happened,” he told Noct, the weight on his heart lifting somewhat.
At home, Ignis busied himself making lunch for the boys, while they played in the living room, then distractedly read a book while he watched over them. An hour later, he got up and began prepping dinner, adding a couple extra servings because Prompto had the appetite of a child twice his size, and it simply wasn’t within Ignis to deny him food. He’d grown to like feeding people.
Around the time dinner was in the oven, Gladio returned, Aranea in tow. They weren’t unsteady on their feet or slurring their words, but it was evident (to Ignis, at least) that they’d had a few more drinks since he left. At least the only thing the kids seemed to notice was that Gladio was in a good mood, and he’d brought a friend along. She stood in the doorway while Gladio came in and found Ignis in the kitchen corner.
“Hey, babe, how’s it going?” He leaned on Ignis companionably and pecked him on the side of the face.
“Fine,” Ignis said.
Gladio was either tipsy enough or distracted enough not to notice or care that Ignis was being particularly short with him that evening. “Good. Hey, do you mind if Aranea stays for dinner? I told her you’re a great cook.”
Ignis doubted Gladio had said any such thing, but he didn’t press it. He shrugged, making Gladio’s arm slide off his shoulder, and said, “Of course. It’ll be ready shortly.” Aranea or not, someone was hungry, so he supposed he would do his best to feed them.
In the living room (which was still hardly spitting distance from the corner that served as the kitchen;
ask how Ignis knew),
the boys were staring up at Aranea in awe. Gladio nodded her into the room and closed the door after her, at which point the kids took it upon themselves to bombard her with questions.
“Gladdy’s talked about you a lot!” Noct said. “You sound really cool!”
“Oh
has
he?” Aranea asked, smirking at Gladio.
“Not
that
much,” Gladio replied, and Ignis was fairly sure he was blushing. That, or the alcohol was catching up. Either way, he wasn’t impressed with the scene.
“Gladdy said you killed a bunch of cool monsters!” Noct continued, oblivious to the situation he’d put his dad in. “Can I see your sword?!”
“It’s a lance,” Aranea explained, taking the long weapon off her back and showing the children. It took up most of the length between the couch and the front door.
Ignis focused on finishing dinner and keeping his breathing even and steady. Shouldn’t Aranea have
asked
before showing his child a deadly weapon? Maybe she figured it didn’t matter, since Gladio was a hunter. What if she was crazy and tried to attack Noct? Maybe they shouldn’t have let her inside, or at least asked that she hang her weapon up somewhere. Maybe– Ignis shook his head at himself, shutting down the wild train of thought. He started arranging plates to serve people with.
Once dinner was ready, they pulled the small dining table out into the living room. Ignis sat at the table with the kids, while Gladio and Aranea balanced their plates on their laps. At the kids’ request, she regaled them with tales of beasts she’d slain while they ate. Still, she was polite enough to take the time to compliment the meal.
“Thanks for letting me stay for dinner, Ignis. Your cooking really is as good as Gladio says.”
“My pleasure,” Ignis replied, although the pleasure he felt was somewhat exaggerated. His smile was not entirely faked, however; he was surprised but not displeased to find Gladio had really talked up his cooking ability. (Though on the other hand, it was possible that they’d simply both told the same lie.)
Ignis didn’t join the conversation much more than that, or dinner would have likely been quite awkward. As it was, everyone else seemed to be in a fairly pleasant mood by the time the meal was over. Before too long, Aranea said “nice to meet you” and “see you again sometime” and saw herself out, followed by Gladio. They stood in front of the house, visible through the window, and chatted for just a few minutes before she waved and walked down the road. Ignis only glanced at them a few times while he was clearing the dishes away.
“Iggy, can Prompto stay the night?” Noct asked, while they cleaned up and waited for Gladio to come back inside.
“Won’t his caretaker wonder where he’s gone?”
Prompto jumped up excitedly. “She doesn’t care!” he promised, as if Ignis was going to take a five-year-old’s word that his guardian didn’t mind him disappearing for the night.
When he took too long responding, Noct added, “The bigger kids are picking on him!”
“They keep stealing my blankets at night,” Prompto admitted, looking a little ashamed about it.
Ignis sighed. He hadn’t needed the guilt trip to say yes, but now there was no choice at all. “Of course he can stay,” he told Noct. He looked at Prompto, whose eyes had gone impossibly wide with joy. “But we need to go let your caretaker know.” He nodded to the door.
Prompto didn’t seem enthused about heading home even for a few minutes, but he obviously realized it was the price for getting to stay all night, so he hopped to the door immediately, closely followed by Noct, who felt no such hesitation. They bumped into Gladio on his way back in.
“Prompto’s staying the night!” Noct cheered. “Iggy said he could!”
“Sounds fun,” Gladio said with a grin, sidling past the rambunctious boys. He paused next to Ignis and nudged him with his elbow, smirking. “Softy.”
The walk across town was more of a jog, even with the kids’ much shorter legs, and they didn’t stay longer than a few minutes as Prompto rushed around, gathering nearly all his worldly possessions, which amounted to very little.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Ignis said to the caretaker, a tired-looking lady perhaps twice his age.
“Mind?” She laughed. “As long as you don’t send him home hungry, be my guest.” She looked over Ignis for a moment, up and down and then down at Noct, who was fidgeting next to him. “Matter of fact, why don’t you keep him. You can afford it.”
Ignis crossed his arms and ignored Noct, who was staring up at him with desperate eyes. “I’m sorry, madam, but I can’t make such a commitment at this time.”
“Iggy,”
Noct whined, tugging on his shirt.
The caretaker sighed in mild disappointment. “Well, feel free to have a trial run, long as you like. Just don’t let him ruin his clothes. I can’t afford any new ones.”
“I’ll do my best, madam,” Ignis said, as Prompto rushed out with a bundle of things in one arm, and grabbed Noct’s hand. He didn’t stop; he just shouted over his shoulder, “bye!”
Ignis and the caretaker shared a look: ‘kids, right?’ Then she shrugged and shut the door, and Ignis turned to jog after the boys.
Back at home, Gladio had picked up working in the loft where he’d been before Aranea showed up. He continued up there for a while, as Ignis finished cleaning up dinner and settling the boys down for bed. He gathered up all their spare blankets and their old sleeping bags, and piled them on the couch for the kids to distribute as they saw fit. They immediately began making a fort between the couch and the dining table and chairs.
“Remember you have school in the morning,” he told them as they hid in their little sanctuary and giggled.
“Okay!” they called, though the giggling didn’t cease any time soon, despite Ignis turning the lights out and retreating to the bedroom.
Gladio was already in there, lounging on the bed and reading. “Kids doin’ alright?” he asked when Ignis came in.
“Almost too well,” Ignis replied. “We’ll see if they feel the same in the morning.”
With his back turned, he stripped down to his underwear, folding the mostly-clean clothes to be worn again tomorrow, then sat down on the edge of the bed. He could hear Gladio setting his book aside and sliding down under the covers.
“Hit the light?” he asked.
Ignis flipped the light switch and settled down into the bed as well, laying like a corpse on the edge of the bed Noct usually took up. He could still hear the kids talking and laughing in the other room, and the usual sounds of the town outside, but otherwise it was oppressively quiet.
There’d been moments, even hours, when the two of them had laid in the same bed without Noct between or beside them. Sometimes he got up early to go play and Ignis and Gladio woke up alone together, draped one over the other, or tangled in each other’s limbs. Sometimes, in the pale, warm light of morning, with the fog of sleep still hanging over them, they’d shared something akin to a cuddle. But they’d never laid down in this bed, knowing full well that Noct would not be joining them all night.
It felt wrong. Without Noct to protect, it felt obscene to be laying so close together, so close that they might touch. The bed felt empty, and yet too small. Gladio was so close, but impossibly far away. The weight on Ignis’ heart had wiggled down into his stomach. It was… dread.
What if Gladio decided to leave? If he decided to go roam with Aranea, or settle down with her to have a real family? It might not even be Aranea. Maybe Gladio would just grow tired of their facade and decide it was time to pursue his own life. There was no shortage of women who wanted his attention, women he could be with wholly. Aranea was certainly one of them. She was quite beautiful and impressive, and these days they probably had more in common than Gladio did with Ignis.
Would he really leave? Would he go and leave Noct to the mercy of Ignis and what fate he couldn’t protect him from? The idea terrified Ignis, almost to the point of nausea. Perhaps Gladio wanted to be with Aranea, but was that so important that he would risk Noct’s safety?
But would that be worse than this? Worse than Gladio falling for some woman in plain view of Noct and the town that sprawled around them? How would that look, Gladio brazenly cheating on his husband, while Ignis silently bore the shame? Was that any way to raise Noctis?
But suppose Gladio
did
leave. Would it really matter? Meldacio was as safe as anywhere, and safer than most, and they were settled into quite a decent little life there. Even if Gladio disappeared, Noctis would be fine. Ignis didn’t
need
Gladio’s help to care for him anymore. Yes, Noct deserved two parents, but it was no longer a matter of life or death.
So why did it feel that way?
“You feelin’ okay, Iggy?” Gladio asked from two feet away, startling Ignis.
“Of course,” Ignis said. “Why?”
“I can hear you thinking over there,” Gladio said, an edge of a laugh in his voice.
Ignis closed his eyes. “It’s nothing,” he assured him.
“If you say so.” He could tell Gladio was rolling his eyes in mild disbelief, but he didn’t press the issue. After a moment, he rolled on his side towards Ignis. “Hey, Ignis…”
“...What, Gladio?” he asked, perhaps a little too sharply.
There was a moment of silence, as Gladio seemed to consider what he was going to say. Ignis couldn’t guess what it might be. But then Gladio sighed and said, “Uh, nothin’. Sleep tight, Iggy.”
Ignis rolled over on his side, away from Gladio, and nestled his head into the pillow. “Goodnight, Gladio.”
Chapter Text
Ignis was nothing if not composed, so the next year passed much the same as any other, and as far as he could tell, nobody knew he was silently bearing a painful worry. Every new week that passed, he was more sure that Gladio would tell him he was dating Aranea. He’d probably do it with a smile on his face, like Ignis ought to be happy for him that he’d found someone. And if their situation were even a little different, maybe he would have been. They were best friends, after all, and he should want Gladio to find happiness, wherever that might be.
But Gladio dating, or seeing, or sleeping with Aranea could only put at risk the delicate balance they’d struck between the family they were pretending to be, and the royal entourage they truly were.
He knew Gladio could keep a secret. Obviously: they’d been doing it for years, and it was a bit bigger than simply not kissing and telling. But there were subtle, yet noticeable, differences between pretending to be in a relationship with someone, like he did with Ignis, and pretending not to be infatuated with someone, like he did with Aranea. True infatuation was always visible to others nearby; you simply couldn’t hide the small ways your body reacted to someone else’s when you wanted to be near them.
Townsfolk would notice. They’d see, perhaps had seen, the way that Gladio looked so excited when Aranea was around– and she was around much more often, that year. Their neighbors would certainly see her coming around, stopping for a meal or a drink, fetching Gladio for an impromptu hunt, and they’d see the way Gladio brightened in her presence. And then what would they think of the Scientia family? What else could they think but exactly what it appeared: that the outgoing, attractive husband was cheating on the drab, predictable one while he stood there and watched it happen, powerless to even speak up against the insulting treatment.
And in front of their children, too.
(Prompto was not really their child, though over the year the townsfolk might have forgotten that. He stayed until at least dinner nearly every afternoon after school, and then stayed overnight perhaps half the time. His caretaker continued to suggest that Ignis should adopt him officially, and Ignis continued to tell her that he couldn’t afford the commitment at that time. It didn’t stop him from feeding and clothing the boy, but it absolved him of the responsibility of worrying about him more than superficially, when he still had to focus on Noct, and couldn’t help thinking too much about Gladio.)
The fact that Noct was at such an impressionable age was even more important than Ignis’ reputation. A child so young yet so canny should not have to see his parents’ relationship falling apart like that. Perhaps he was too young to quite understand what was going on, but he would certainly internalize it, and for the sake of his own future relationships, that was something Ignis desperately wanted to avoid. He didn’t want Noct to look at him and think it was alright to let your partner disrespect you, or look at Gladio and decide that cheating on a spouse was permissible. Noct needed to see their loyalty to each other and to him.
But even if Noct had his head in the sand and completely failed to notice Gladio’s behavior, he’d notice without fail if the man were to disappear. Ignis dreaded having to explain to Noct where his Gladdy had gone, having to fabricate some kind of answer if Noct were to doubt Gladio’s love for him. Ignis could physically care for Noct just fine, nowadays, but he couldn’t make up for the space Gladio occupied in Noct’s heart.
That, he told himself, was why he grew angrier with his partner as the year wore on.
Gladio seemed almost oblivious to his ire. He noticed Ignis’ moods from time to time, and carefully stepped around his emotions when they flared a bit, but he made no changes to his life, his routine, or his relationship with Aranea, which implied that he either didn’t truly understand Ignis’ displeasure, or he didn’t care about it.
It wasn’t fair to say his relationship with Aranea hadn’t changed at all, though. In truth, it had just grown stronger. She’d settled in a little town by the Vesperpool, hardly a day’s casual hike from Meldacio, so she made herself a guest of the Scientia household less often than Prompto did, but far too often for Ignis’ liking. Several times per week she stood at their door, and if she was not calling for Gladio to follow her out on the road, then Gladio was inviting her into their home. The second-worst part of her visits was having to pretend that her presence didn’t ruffle Ignis’ feathers badly; the worst part was that Ignis was the only one that wasn’t joyed by her appearance.
The boys loved her. She always had a fun story to tell, and sometimes brought small gifts from out of town. She gave them their first toy weapons, and then showed them how to use them. And after weeks of asking, she agreed to take them fishing, up at the ‘pool.
This was not their first camping trip as a family, but it was the first one that Prompto had joined, and the first one Ignis had not enjoyed, and there was no correlation between those two factors.
Ignis had actually loved camping, when they finally went, the year after they’d settled. Ever since their flight from Insomnia, he’d hoped they might sometime be able to experience nature for fun, rather than necessity. And it really had been the closest thing to a vacation Ignis had had since early childhood, when he’d still be in close contact with his own family. Out in the woods, picnicking and sleeping on one of the haven stones that hadn’t been built upon, expectations had temporarily loosened their hold on him. It had just been him, his child, and his partner in parenting, and they weren’t actively on the run from anyone or anything. Sometimes he’d wanted to stay there forever– at least until he began wanting a hot shower.
Camping with Aranea had felt nothing like that. Gladio and the boys had all looked to her to guide their activities, and though Ignis certainly didn’t mind hiking or fishing, he wasn’t at all keen on doing them with her, so he tended to stay back and watch them all enjoy themselves. Instead of wanting to stay, he found himself wanting to go home. At least he had chores to do there.
On the third day of their trip, Gladio stayed at camp, while Aranea took the two boys down to fish at a nearby pond. It was visible from the haven, so they weren’t concerned about the boys getting hurt, or Aranea absconding with them, but Ignis still wondered why Gladio hadn’t tagged along. He liked fishing, and he obviously liked Aranea.
“Eh, I’m fished out,” he said, when Ignis asked, shrugging as he plopped down in an adjacent folding chair. He sat there and watched the kids’ awkward attempts at casting, and Aranea’s attempts at correcting them.
The silence didn’t bother Ignis, and he assumed it wouldn’t have bothered Gladio either, since he tended to prefer the outdoors and its natural solitude, but Gladio became a little fidgety as the minutes passed. He tapped his foot like he was waiting for something, and Ignis had to pretend he wasn’t annoyed by it.
Eventually he looked over at Ignis and asked nonchalantly, “Not really having fun this time, huh?”
“It’s not less enjoyable than being at home,” Ignis answered, although that was something of a lie; he thought he would rather have been doing just about anything at home, because then at least he’d be making some kind of progress, instead of sitting there and glaring daggers at Aranea while nobody was looking. He didn’t kid himself that that was useful at all.
“So what’s wrong?” Gladio asked. “Prompto too much for you? I figured between three adults we should be able to handle two kids.”
Ignis shook his head. “No, Prompto’s fine. He and Noct may inspire chaos in one another, but they also keep each other in check.”
“Well, good,” Gladio said, relaxing back in his seat. “He’d’ve probably been disappointed if we went without him.”
“I wouldn’t have even considered such a thing,” Ignis said honestly.
Gladio nodded. “Right. Kid’s practically family now.”
Turning towards him, Ignis narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Have you been talking to his caretaker?”
“Just a few times,” Gladio said with a shrug. “Honestly, you’re more his caretaker now than she is.”
Ignis shook his head, sighing, a little fondly exasperated, and a little normally exasperated. “We can’t afford to be distracted by another child. In case you’ve forgotten, our focus is protecting Noct.”
“I haven’t forgotten.” Gladio gave him a hard look, as his posture stiffened. “I’m not gonna just forget something like that.” Softening, he continued. “I just don’t see what the point is in sending him home for a couple hours a week, when he obviously hates the place. Anyway, if we really wanna do our best for Noct, we could do worse than getting him a brother. Every kid deserves to have someone to play and argue with.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Ignis said. He’d never had siblings, or cousins. He’d scarcely had friends at Noct’s age.
A look that nearly passed for a grimace crossed Gladio’s face briefly, and he turned away from their argument. They sat quietly for a few minutes more, occasionally swatting away swamp bugs. Then he glanced back at Ignis, head turned no more than halfway toward him.
“Not trying to fight with you. Sorry.”
“I’ve seen you fight,” Ignis said. “This is no more than friendly banter.”
Gladio was not convinced; he shook his head, but at what exactly, Ignis couldn’t guess. “Y’know, I thought…” He paused, and seemed to reconsider his words. “I mean, I was thinking it would be nice, for Aranea to hang out with the kids for a couple hours.”
“What? As a bonding experience?” Ignis asked, unable to stop the sarcasm from seeping into his voice.
“Well that’s cool too,” Gladio said, “but I meant, y’know, so we didn’t have to watch ‘em for a while.”
Ignis rolled his eyes. “That’s kind, Gladio, but I’m more than capable of watching two five-year-olds, and they’re not so rambunctious that I need a break from them.”
It seemed like Gladio was choking on a protest as he looked at Ignis in what appeared to be mild despair. For a moment, Ignis was sure he was going to say something else, but in the end he just sat back and watched the kids fish from a distance. Another hour or two went by with minimal conversation, but the silence was at least somewhat companionable. It was better than the silence between them at night, if nothing else.
With Prompto sleeping over so often, there was at least one night per week where the two boys slept in a fort or tangle of blankets in the living room, and Ignis and Gladio found themselves in bed alone. Gladio didn’t seem bothered by it, just like he didn’t seem bothered by any of the other things that were eating Ignis alive that year. He wondered if sleeping beside others was more natural to him because he’d had a sibling and other family members he was close to.
Apparently he was so unphased by sleeping alone with Ignis that Gladio began suggesting they remove Noct from the bed permanently.
“Nice to have a little more space sometimes,” he said, stretching out in the bed that was almost large enough for his six-and-a-half feet. The boys were having their sleepover in the living room that night, but they’d both piled into the bed the night before, because Noct wanted to sleep there and of course they weren’t going to make Prompto sleep on the floor. The bed was just big enough for the four of them, if they didn’t mind being in each others’ spaces.
“I suppose,” Ignis replied, because he didn’t know what else to say.
Gladio turned on his side, to better converse with Ignis. “Y’know, since Noct’s getting older, maybe he should have his own bed. The loft’s almost liveable. I bet we could get Roth to find us a few kid-sized beds and give ‘em their own space.”
Ignis frowned, uncomfortable with the idea in several ways he wasn’t comfortable with explaining. “I don’t mind sharing this space with them. In fact, I feel more comfortable with Noct remaining closer by.”
“He’s not gonna get in any trouble in the loft, Iggy,” Gladio said with a gentle eye roll. “He’d be fine. It’s important for kids his age to start being more independent.”
“Maybe for other children.” Ignis glared at Gladio, irritated with what seemed like an overly permissive attitude about Noct’s safety these days. “But other children will grow up and leave their parents. Noct is different. He needs protection, not independence.”
“He can have both,” Gladio protested, though he didn’t look at all angry about it, not like Ignis felt. He seemed very self-assured. “Look, I’ll put bars on the window so no bad guys can break in at night.”
“Gladio, if you’re so set on having more space, perhaps you should sleep in the loft.”
An almost comical grimace came over Gladio’s face, surprising Ignis. He knew it had come out a little strong, but he’d actually thought the suggestion somewhat reasonable. Gladio could have all the space he wanted, and privacy too, if he made the loft his room.
“I’m not trying to get away from you, Iggy,” he said, chagrined. “I just thought we’d like to have a little privacy sometimes. Away from the kids.”
Ignis sighed at Gladio’s idiocy. “Protecting Noct is my life’s mission. I don’t know why I’d ever want to separate myself from him.”
“Because,” Gladio began, sounding equally exasperated. “Sometimes parents wanna be alone so they can do adult things.”
Ignis turned his face into the pillow so he didn’t have to look at Gladio, even with the heavy shadow on him. “Noct is too young to be thinking about his parents’ sex life,” he said, just a little muffled by the pillow. “I highly doubt he’ll grow suspicious if he doesn’t see us taking ‘alone time’ together.”
“That’s not–!” Gladio started, but he cut himself off suddenly and stared at the wall past Ignis’ shoulder for a few moments. “I think you’re underestimating him, but that’s not the point.”
“And the point is?” Ignis asked, turning out of the pillow so he could stare at Gladio.
Grunting in frustration, Gladio sat up on his elbow and leaned over to kiss Ignis roughly on the lips. Equally annoyed, Ignis kissed him back hard, almost pushing him away with his face. Then he rolled away from him, hugging the edge of the bed, and huffed irritably.
“Save it for a time when it will mean something,” he said, pulling the blankets closer around his shoulders. Even he didn’t know if he meant a public moment between them, or a moment with Aranea– hopefully somewhere so far away that Ignis would never get wind of it.
They didn’t speak the rest of the night, but Ignis could hear Gladio breathing heavily on the other side of the bed for several minutes, like he was as worked up as Ignis felt.
In the morning, Ignis woke with an uneasy tension coiled through his stomach and chest, memories of a rather torrid dream playing back in his mind. In it, he hadn’t pushed Gladio away, instead letting the hunter take out his frustrations upon him. It wasn’t the first such dream he’d had, but it was the first to have tied in so closely with a memory, and the first to be so …gravid.
The plumbing in their house was still cold water only, so Ignis threw on his clothes, collected his towel, and went out into the early morning for a turn at the bath house, where he could have an appropriately scalding shower. It helped him feel more present in his skin and woke up his senses. When he returned home, the boys were still dozing in the living room, but Gladio had disappeared. Ignis could only assume he’d gone for a run or something, not suddenly decided it was time to run off with Aranea.
Ignis got to work on pancakes, which inevitably coaxed Noct and Prompto to waking. Gladio returned, and they all ate together before the boys had to get ready for school. As he saw them off, Ignis expected Gladio to collect his field kit and head out to a hunt, but when he returned inside he was surprised to find Gladio still lounging on the couch, reading.
“Nothing to kill today?” he asked, walking past Gladio to go tidy the kitchen, which was still only a few arms-lengths from the living room. (They’d talked about expanding it, but there was scarcely room to walk between their house and their neighbors’ as it was; any further outward building would cause a fire hazard, which was why they and most of their neighbors had begun building upward.)
“I’m sure there is,” Gladio said with a soft chuckle. “Someone else can handle it today. I thought I’d stay in and help you around the house.”
Why?, Ignis wondered. Was he feeling guilty about their argument the night before? It hadn’t seemed like Gladio had even considered it a fight. Maybe he felt guilty about that which had not yet occurred… Perhaps he was trying to butter Ignis up so he’d forgive him for the inevitable pain he caused when he finally decided to screw them over.
“There isn’t much I need help with,” he said, glancing sidelong at Gladio as he continued to scrub dishes.
Gladio shrugged and put his book down, marking his page with an old Insomnian bill, from before the city had switched primarily to digital credits. He’d likely kept it for sentimental value, since Gil was the only currency accepted in what remained of Lucis anymore.
“Alright, I’ll work on the loft,” he said, standing and heading for the hallway. Over his shoulder he added, “Let’s get lunch in a bit. Deal?”
“If you like,” Ignis replied. The offer of lunch did very little to convince him that Gladio wasn’t trying to get on his good side.
An hour or so before the boys would be done with school, the two of them went out to a popular little eatery that had popped up the year before. A chef from one of the crown city’s top restaurants had managed to salvage some decent equipment, so there was usually a line to dine there, despite the average-at-best quality of the seating. Like most of the other establishments in Meldacio, the dining area consisted mostly of folding chairs and barrels sawed in half to serve as tables. Luck was on their side that day, as they only waited a few minutes to be seated, but a line formed outside the courtyard’s picket fence soon after.
“Still thinkin’ of talking to the chef?” Gladio asked conversationally as they waited for their food.
“I doubt he needs help from an amateur,” Ignis said, shaking his head. He’d been thinking of applying for a part time job there, not because they needed the money, but because he’d thought he might learn something. It wasn’t something he was set on, though, and lately he hadn’t been in the mood to put himself out there.
“Why not?” Gladio asked, sounding disappointed. “You’re a great cook. You could probably teach him a thing or two.”
Ignis ducked his head, more embarrassed by the compliment than he had any right to be. “Perhaps,” he said, instead of arguing.
That halted that train of conversation, but Gladio somehow kept finding things to talk about, and Ignis somehow managed to find ways to respond to most of them. They ate their food when it arrived, but didn’t rush through it. Ignis was aware of the people in line, staring at them in annoyance and judging their leisurely pace, but Gladio didn’t appear to care until Ignis began tapping his foot.
Gladio gave him a well-practiced look that shot right past flirtatious and into seductive territory. “Eager to head back, huh? Think there’s time before the kids get home?”
Ignis fought not to roll his eyes hard enough to give himself a headache. Gladio’s comments were always particularly lascivious when he knew others could hear, although, thank the gods, he never crossed the line to explicit. Ignis didn’t think he could handle it.
“Time for you, I’m sure,” he responded teasingly. “Time for the both of us? Doubtful.”
“Hey, that’s not a no,” Gladio said with a playful grin. “Guess we better hurry.” He stood up from the table and reached out to haul Ignis to his feet as well. (Behind them, standing in line, Ignis could hear someone mutter ’finally’.)
But instead of making for the exit, Gladio leaned into Ignis’ space and pressed a slow, passionate kiss to his lips.
Ignis’ first instinct was always to push him away; propriety had been instilled deeply in him from a young age, and a kiss like this was so improper it bordered on obscene. It certainly felt obscene, as the seconds progressed. But he always quickly remembered that that was the point– to be seen, even remembered, as a couple who could hardly keep their hands off each other. Who would doubt, after five years and hundreds of scattered kisses, that they were not married, that Noct was not their son?
Who would expect colleagues to make out in public, regularly, just to throw Imperials off their trail?
So Ignis leaned into the kiss, even though, by his estimation, it was probably overkill. He laid his hand on the curve of Gladio’s neck and pulled him closer, his other hand finding its way to Gladio’s waist, completely of its own accord. The move seemed to inspire Gladio; he parted his lips, with which he parted Ignis’ lips, and for a moment the soft, protected insides of their mouths brushed against each other.
“Gods, I am starving,” someone complained loudly from the line, drawing Ignis out of the fantasy he was at risk of falling into. A glance at the assembled crowd showed most of them pretending not to stare at the scene he and Gladio were making. Mission accomplished, he supposed.
He and Gladio pulled away from each other at the same time, though Gladio remained in Ignis’ bubble long enough to murmur, “Meaningful enough for you?” Of course he was smirking, but he seemed a little more ruffled than someone who was just teasing their friend.
Ignis just cleared his throat and straightened his collar. “Well I suppose we’d better go,” he said to nobody in particular. He knew Gladio’s question had been rhetorical, which was a good thing, because the only answer he’d have been able to give, had he been obligated to give one, was a too-honest, ’too meaningful, really’.
He’d thought Gladio would return to his normal schedule after that, but over the next months he continued to take more regular days off, seemingly just to hang around with his family and continue building up the second story of the house. His presence should have made Ignis happy (and it did, in the unencumbered part of his brain that still felt simple joys), but he kept thinking there was some excuse for it. Gladio had to be silently apologizing for the moment when he would leave them, fixing up the house as best he could so they’d be comfortable if or when he was no longer there.
At least it proved he cared somewhat, Ignis supposed.
It started to feel like there was a timer counting down, its numbers so faintly visible that Ignis could only tell it was moving, could only guess how long there might be left on the clock. He didn’t know what he was going to do when it ran out. To his mind, there were three options.
First, he could just deal with the fallout as it came. Should Gladio finally admit that he was leaving, or that he was ending their pretend relationship to pursue a real one (whether that saw him leave Meldacio or not), Ignis could just do as he saw fit at the time. It wasn’t much of a plan, but unfortunately it was the most likely one, given that he couldn’t know when Gladio might spring the announcement on him. It could be any moment; it could be before he had another plan.
But if there was time (and the agonizing wait he’d already gone through suggested there would be), Ignis could preempt Gladio’s decision. He could ready himself and Noct to be on their own, prepared to leave if it came down to that. After all, it was primarily Gladio’s work that kept them in such good standing with the town. If he were to leave, Ignis wasn’t sure if his part time jobs would keep them in such priority housing. They might have to look elsewhere, and it might be smart to do so before it was truly necessary.
He didn’t relish the idea of leaving before they had to, but it also wasn’t in him to simply wait and let the situation play out under someone else’s control.
There was one other option, and he didn’t know if it was possible, but it was the most appealing of the three. If he was lucky, he might be able to convince Gladio to give the whole thing up, to forget Aranea and stay with him– stay with them.
The question was: what about Aranea made Gladio like her as much as he clearly did?
There was at least one aspect that Ignis could do nothing to match. Aranea was a striking woman. Even if Ignis copied her jaunty style, her self-confident mannerisms, he could not be her, or anything like her. He could not be so petite if he tried, and nobody would ever mistake him for a woman, particularly in the ways he thought it might count, where Gladio was concerned.
But Gladio was not as shallow as that– he surely saw in Aranea more than a soft, slender body and artfully applied makeup. They often went out drinking together, whiling a number of free hours away in a leisurely manner. Although they invited him more often than not, Ignis had always felt they were just being courteous, and he typically declined. He always claimed to have some chore or job to do, though in actuality he simply didn’t want to see them together, more than was necessary.
He was nothing if not an efficient person, so any chores or jobs he might actually have to do wouldn’t get in the way of anything he truly wanted. And so, he decided to take the initiative and invite Gladio out to the tavern at least once per week, thinking if they filled that need for alcohol and socialization early, then he’d have less reason to go with Aranea the next time she showed her face.
It was at one such outing, several weeks into Ignis’ plan, that he suggested the next step in his journey to make Aranea as obsolete as possible. He wasn’t drunk, certainly would never be intoxicated when he still had Noct to protect, but the alcohol had softened his inhibitions, and instead of waiting for the correct time, or finding the right phrasing, Ignis just dropped his question on Gladio while he was in mid-drink.
It was nothing so absurd as to make him choke or spit the liquid out, so he just raised an eyebrow over the edge of the mug.
“Why don’t I go hunting with you sometime?” was what he’d said.
When Gladio set down his mug, he replied, “I thought someone had to take care of Noct.”
“Someone does have to take care of Noct,” Ignis said. He nodded back towards the center of town, where Noct and Prompto were in school, and would be yet for another hour. “Someone is taking care of him right now, so as you can see, I have the time to help, from time to time.” It wasn’t the smoothest sentence he’d ever uttered, but he thought it got the point across.
Gladio shrugged a little helplessly, like he couldn’t refute what Ignis had just said. “Well sure, but I don’t just mean right now. Someone’s gotta take care of Noct if, y’know, something happened to me. Hunts can get dangerous and, no offense Iggy, but you haven’t practiced much these last couple years.”
Maybe he had drank just a little too much, because Ignis bristled as if Gladio had truly insulted him instead of just speaking the truth. He stood up abruptly and knocked back the rest of his drink. “I’d wager I’m still fit enough for the likes of you,” he said, challenging Gladio with perhaps too little flirtatious undertone. Gladio glanced around to gauge how many people might hear them, then stood to join Ignis.
“You’re just right for the likes of me,” he purred, apparently trying to diffuse the situation with the usual sexual innuendo.
Ignis felt unreasonably offended that Gladio wasn’t taking him seriously, and in the still-sane corners of his mind he tried to get himself to take deep breaths. “Don’t try to flirt your way out of this one,” he said instead, drawing one of the short daggers he usually kept on his person while they were out. He flipped it in the air and caught it deftly. His emotional decision making skills might have been dulled by the drink, but his reflexes were fine.
Gladio’s expression fell comically fast from playfully seductive to rightly concerned. “Iggy, I don’t know if now’s the right time to spar.”
Squaring his shoulders, Ignis looked Gladio directly in the eye. “You said it yourself: I’m unpracticed. That can’t stand. What if Imperials attacked this very moment. Would you leave me unable to defend myself?”
“I’d defend you,” Gladio answered automatically. But he sighed and shook his head not a moment later. “Fine. We’ll spar. There’s an open spot over this way. C’mon.”
They found a little clearing on the edge of town, a block where nothing but storehouses were built, because the spotlights didn’t extend that far. Still, there were houses and little businesses nearby, and the inhabitants stared at them curiously as they settled into sparring stances. Ignis had fought neither man nor beast in over a year, but he was well enough trained that the motions came back to him quickly.
“Show me whatcha got, babe!” Gladio called from across the small dirt lot.
“As you wish, dear!” Ignis replied, remembering to add the pet name for the benefit of the handful of people loitering around their front doors. He didn’t think of it at the time, but later he wondered if playing up the married couple just then didn’t strike a discordant note.
Although he’d only wanted to prove himself to Gladio, and hopefully secure the chance to hunt with him in the hopes of displacing Aranea, Ignis soon found himself enjoying the battle. Despite his intellectual tendencies and his aptitude for domestic work, he’d always been an active person, and he hadn’t realized just how much he was missing when his life didn’t include some fast-paced and strenuous exercise. He launched himself at Gladio; he pivoted; he dodged and leapt away from a half-serious swing; he threw a knife with deadly efficiency and rolled to collect it, heedless of the dirt coating his nice shirt. And after a few minutes he realized he was grinning.
And Gladio, too, fell into the groove as they danced, his expression softly morphing from determined concern over Ignis’ uncharacteristic challenge, to a bright-eyed joy to be doing something he loved with someone he… was partners with, anyway.
It didn’t take but a few minutes for Gladio to stop pulling his metaphorical punches, once he realized Ignis actually could hold his own, and it was only a few more minutes before they wore each other out. The match lasted maybe ten minutes before Gladio dropped his sword with a heavy thunk in the dirt, and held up a hand to signal a stop. He leaned forward over his knees to catch a few breaths, while Ignis panted and shakily slotted his daggers back into their sheathes.
“Alright, you proved your point,” Gladio called, laughing through his heavy breaths. “You can take care of yourself, I learned that.” He staggered upright and took a few more steadying breaths before he said, “You know what else I learned?”
“What did you learn, Gladio?” Ignis asked, laughing and wiping sweat from his brow.
Gladio sauntered over and laid a kiss on him, heavy, exhausted, exuberant, and very convincing. He was still breathing hard, and almost knocked them both to the ground by leaning his tired weight on Ignis. “I learned you’re sexy when you’re trying to kick my ass,” he murmured, much too quiet to be heard by anyone else.
Endorphins were still flooding Ignis, blood rushing all throughout his body, and it felt so good that all he could do was laugh in response. He kissed Gladio again, catching him so off-guard that he fell back and pulled Ignis down with him, into a pile in the dry dirt. They both rolled over onto their backs and stared up at the sky, catching their breaths and laughing softly in some kind of relief.
It wasn’t the same as being in a real relationship, but Ignis thought maybe it could be enough to keep Gladio from looking elsewhere.
Chapter Text
Ignis would have been a fool to think that offering to hunt with Gladio would keep him away from Aranea entirely. He had
hoped
it might, but expected it wouldn’t, and as usual his brain was right.
The day after their sparring match, Gladio invited Ignis along on a quick local hunt while the kids were at school. A handful of sabertusks had been seen prowling around outside of town late that morning, and Roth had asked that Gladio handle it. He typically tasked Gladio with more difficult hunts, but the pack’s proximity made it a priority, and most of the other hunters had already headed off on other errands by the time the sabertusks had been reported.
Although Ignis didn’t find the same sort of enjoyment in hunting that Gladio seemed to, he had something that might pass as fun, following after the more experienced hunter. It wasn’t the same kind of fun as sparring, and Ignis didn’t particularly like killing things, especially when the pack of mutant canines had hardly a steak or filet between them, but outsmarting and outmaneuvering the beasts was a thrill he hadn’t felt for some time.
Fighting beside Gladio was something too. The bond Ignis felt between them when they collaborated on keeping Noctis safe, a link that had been as strong as steel in the months of their flight from Insomnia, felt stronger in those few moments of battle than they had in years of quiet cohabitation. It was almost instinct to watch and react to Gladio’s movements, mirroring him as he circled the beasts, his strikes timed just so to keep the enemy off balance.
It made Ignis want to follow him on every hunt, not just to keep him from other partners, but to see him dance on the battlefield like that, and join in with his own matching steps. The way Gladio’s eyes glittered when Ignis struck true made that desire all the stronger.
Really, it was no wonder that Gladio and Aranea had eyes for each other, if that was how they saw one another. It was intimate in a way it was difficult to be while standing still. Never before had Ignis felt the limitations of his sedentary lifestyle so keenly.
His mood was buoyed for days after that. But then Aranea came around again, waving a bounty poster, and Gladio gathered his gear and cheerfully trailed off after her. He kissed Ignis on the cheek as he left, like some kind of consolation prize, leaving him to wish Gladio would just rip the bandage off, instead of being kind about it and prolonging the pain.
He was gone for four days that time, noticeably longer than he was usually out, and it put Ignis in a noticeably worse mood. The boys were quieter than usual, when the third day came around and Ignis’ patience was wearing thin. He was fairly certain he didn’t treat them any differently, but even at six years old they knew him too well not to be aware of his moods.
It was Prompto who brought it up hesitantly, as he and Noct were coloring in the living room after school. He kept glancing nervously at Ignis, until finally Ignis put down his book and asked, “Is something the matter, Prompto?”
He thought the boy would ask for some more snacks (he’d made himself at home in their house, but he was still shy about grabbing food without asking; apparently it was something his caretaker at the orphanage often got on him about), but instead he asked, “Are you mad because Gladio’s late?”
“I’m not mad,” Ignis said, aware that this was not the first time he’d had to convince the kids he wasn’t in a bad mood. Perhaps he needed to rein in his emotions a little better. “And he isn’t late,” he added, just as a matter of fact. “I knew this would be a long hunt. He could be several more days yet.”
“Oh,” Prompto said, his posture softening slightly now that he didn’t have to worry that Ignis was angry. “So then you’re sad because you miss him?”
Ignis opened his mouth to protest that he wasn’t sad and he didn’t miss Gladio at all, but on top of the fact that those were both bald-faced lies, they didn’t fit the image of the happily married parents he and Gladio were still trying to present. A couple who were truly in love
should
miss each other when they were apart.
“Is it so obvious?” Ignis asked with a soft laugh.
Prompto nodded enthusiastically. “You’re always sad when he’s gone! Right, Noct?” He reached over and shook Noctis’ arm, causing the boy to glare at him with a stormy viciousness when it ruined his drawing.
“You made me color outside the lines!”
The boys were wrestling in a cloud of drawing paper not a minute later, so Ignis didn’t find out if Noct also noticed his father’s apparent sadness when his other dad was out of town, at least not until a week or so later.
Gladio had returned after several days, and since then had come and gone regularly, including on drinking dates with Aranea, despite Ignis’ attempt to satisfy that need as well. Apparently, Ignis’ mood had not improved, even though Gladio was now back to his usual schedule. As they walked back from the bathhouse one weekend morning, Noct stared up at him from the corner of his eye.
“You’re still sad, even though Gladdy’s home,” he noted, his expression somewhere between wary and judgmental.
“What makes you say that?” Ignis asked, returning a look that was probably too similar.
“I can tell,” Noct replied, scowling lightly, like he was offended that Ignis thought he could hide his emotions from him. He added, “And Prompto can tell too.” After a short moment he added as well, “And Miss C asked if you and Gladdy were fighting.”
Ignis nearly tripped over the flat ground. Alarmed, he stopped and stared down at Noct. “Miss Contreras asked if we were fighting? What did you tell her?”
Noct shrugged. “I said you never fight.” Ignis sighed in relief just as Noct added, “Then she asked Prompto, and he said you were sad because Gladdy was gone all week.”
There was no way Ignis could ask if the teacher had seemed to believe him; Noct was
somewhat
emotionally savvy, especially where his parents were concerned, but Ignis couldn’t expect him to understand the deep suspicions adults sometimes harbored. He took a deep breath and stood up straight. He’d have to work on their public image, if people he saw for barely a minute every day were noticing the tension between them.
The problem was that when he and Gladio were together in public, there was very little he could do to make them seem more in love. Already they held hands, kissed when appropriate and sometimes when
not
appropriate, smiled, and touched casually. Ignis didn’t imagine that it looked particularly fake to those around them, because as the years had worn on, the gestures had felt more and more natural, and, admittedly… more real, more genuine. True, a shiver still ran through him when their lips met, or when Gladio’s hand lingered softly on his skin, but it was no longer forced. And although their affection was still purposeful, less and less often was it planned. Nobody who watched them together should think they were anything less than blissfully in love.
The problem became apparent when Miss Contreras pulled him aside one afternoon, some weeks later, as the children were leaving for the day.
“Mr. Scientia, can we talk for a few minutes?” she asked, smiling kindly at him, and then down at the kids. “Noct, Prompto, why don’t you play in the playground?”
The boys didn’t need any further urging; they ran for the monkey bars, leaving the two adults to chat in near-privacy.
“What can I do for you?” Ignis asked. He noted that she had a gentle concern in her eyes, but he expected her to say something school-related, about Noct’s test scores, or Prompto speaking out of turn, or the need for more guest teachers.
“I wanted to check on you,” she said, smiling with a look of… almost… pity. “You’ve seemed… stressed lately, and I wanted to make sure there was nothing going on in the family that I should be aware of.”
Ignis could feel his blood hardening, turning him into a statue, or a robot. He replied, “I appreciate your concern, but we’re all perfectly fine, I assure you.”
Miss Contreras was not assured. “I understand. You’re a private person, Mr. Scientia. But when there’s discord between the parents, the children suffer too. Noct is worried about his parents. Prompto is worried about you too.”
“Did they tell you this?” Ignis asked, ice melting down his spine at the thought that Noct was truly bothered by his behavior.
Shaking her head, Miss Contreras said, “Kids don’t always know how to talk about what’s bothering them.” Moving on to a seemingly different subject, she said, “Your husband. Gladio, right? Does he treat you well when he’s at home?”
The oxygen seemed to desert Ignis’ lungs. He had to breathe carefully in order to get enough air but avoid looking shaken. “Of course,” he said, letting a smirk find its way to the corner of his mouth. “I’d say he’s the very model spouse. He’s hardworking. A wonderful father. His only flaw is a penchant for public displays of affection.”
Nodding, the teacher said, “I’ve seen how he is in public. I’m asking how he acts when there aren’t eyes on him.”
Ignis could barely stop himself from cringing over how apparently badly their ruse was working. He hoped Miss Contreras was just paranoid or uncommonly preceptive, that she wasn’t just saying what everyone was thinking. Imagine, if their carefully curated displays actually made people think there was something wrong with their private relationship, rather than that it simply didn’t exist.
He thought about making a joke in response, but it didn’t seem like she’d be persuaded by an amusing diversion. “I promise, Gladio is and has always been perfectly kind to me,” he told her. “We’ve been friends and partners since long before the city fell. He protected us through our escape, our long journey here, and all the years since we’ve settled, all without complaint. There’s nothing I can say against him, nor would I want to.”
Miss Contreras stared at him quietly, but the look of pity on her face didn’t fade as he professed how good Gladio was. “I’m sure you already know this, but you’re a lot like your son.” She smiled at him, a touch sad. “You’re both very kind people– beneath all that pride. I just hope…” Sighing, she folded her hands together. “I hope that he’s not learning to suffer silently from you. I want him to know that if something is wrong, that if someone is
treating
you wrong, you don’t have to just… bear it.”
“Is someone treating him poorly?” Ignis asked, feeling that she should have led with that, if she knew his son was getting bullied.
She shook her head at him, still smiling, still so pitying. He worried she was going to look at him that way for the rest of their days there, and people would start noticing, and start to wonder if the Scientia family was harboring some hefty skeletons in their closet. Little did they know, and he was determined to keep it that way, but nothing he said seemed to throw the teacher off his trail.
“It’s not my job to pry into parents’ lives,” Miss Contreras said, “but I care about Noct and what sort of influences he’s getting. Try to be a good one. Lead by example. Show him… that he doesn’t have to accept a bad hand.”
Ignis frowned. “I suppose it depends on the game, doesn’t it.”
Shaking her head in mild exasperation, she said, “I have the feeling your family is too clever for its own good. Maybe I’m just a kindergarten teacher, but I think sometimes you have to set your cleverness aside so it stops getting in the way of making important decisions.” She sighed and added, “I won’t take up any more of your time, Mr. Scientia. I’m glad things are going well with your family, but I’ll be here if anything ever comes up that you want to talk about.”
She called over to the kids, and they came running, looking energized from the extra few minutes of play. They all waved their goodbyes and headed home, far behind the rest of the pack.
“What did Miss C wanna talk about, Iggy?” Noct asked, grabbing Ignis’ hand in his right, and Prompto’s in his left, and swinging their linked arms.
“Nothing important,” he answered, looking off into the distance. “She said she likes to check in with parents from time to time.”
Prompto perked up and waved his hand like he was in class, although he didn’t wait to be called on. “Oh! You should invite her to dinner! Then she can see that you and Gladio don’t fight!”
Noct scowled at Prompto. “I told her they don’t fight!” His scowl whipped over to Ignis. “I told her you don’t fight. If you’re in trouble with Miss C, it’s not my fault.”
Chuckling, Ignis said, “Nobody is in trouble with Miss C. Sometimes adults ask questions they already know the answer to, just to be polite. You ask ‘how are you?’ even when the other person is smiling. It’s a matter of manners.”
The children were unimpressed with his answer, and spent the rest of the short walk home discussing between themselves how dumb the concept of pleasantries was.
Unfortunately, Miss Contreras’ question was no mere pleasantry, even though she seemed to have already figured out the answer. Ignis intended to brush her words aside; after all, she’d told him she wouldn’t bother him about it anymore, and he got the feeling she really would mind her business from then on. But later that night, he found himself thinking over her suggestions.
Was he silently suffering the bad hand he’d been dealt, accepting it because he was too proud to admit that it was hurting him?
Or was it not pride that pained him, but cowardice?
Ignis would admit, to himself if not to others, that he was sometimes stubborn about accepting his own feelings. Feelings were frustrating, destructive tenants living rent-free in his mind, squatters taking up the space in which his organized thoughts were meant to reside. It took him a long time to even begin to acknowledge some of the more troublesome feelings, let alone come to understand and tolerate them.
He had grudgingly accepted that this tension between himself and Gladio was hurting him, sometimes terribly. He
tolerated
the idea that he was afraid of Gladio leaving, that the concept of his indefinite absence from Ignis’ life struck actual fear into his heart. He was starting to understand that he desperately wanted Gladio to stay, and that it was not a purely altruistic desire for Noct’s wellbeing. He wanted Gladio to stay
for Ignis,
as well as for Noct.
Recently he’d started to acknowledge that there was some deeper reason for that, something tied to the way his stomach fluttered when they kissed, and how his heart clenched when they laid silently beside each other at night, Ignis fearing it could be the last time. It was tied to the dreams that seeped into his unconscious mind, and how the memories of their flight from Insomnia were some of his favorites, despite everything. They’d been united against the world then, two wayward souls with nothing and no one but each other.
Far be it from Ignis to suggest that he’d rather be in mortal danger, but sometimes he felt he’d happily suffer any peril or discomfort if it meant he could be so united with Gladio again. Their ruse was wearing on him. The falseness of their relationship hurt more every day. He longed to be
truly
linked to this partner he’d walked beside for so long,
truly,
like they’d been in the beginning, when their hands joined together was a matter of life and death.
When he looked at all that, and let those feelings settle into their homes between thoughts and instincts, they started to become clear, and it became clear that there was a name for the feeling that was so desperately trying to make itself known to him.
Love.
It felt like such an arbitrary word, far too small for what it was supposed to mean. He loved Gladio. He was
in
love with Gladio. He was infatuated, attracted, enamored, smitten. He adored Gladio; he needed him, and wanted him.
Every synonym in his reasonably diverse vocabulary failed to feel even remotely adequate, once Ignis had internalized that the feeling was true. They were
accurate,
every single word as correct as the last. But no combination of adjectives could touch the depth of what Gladio meant to him.
He wondered if ‘love’ would have been enough if he’d come to terms with it years before. Looking back now, he could see that it had been simmering for years. If he’d allowed himself to think about it when they were in Lestallum, would ‘enamored’ have sufficed? Was it simply adoration he’d felt as they’d crossed the deserts of Leide?
If Gladio had kissed him back at the citadel, in the library or the gardens, would Ignis have admitted he was infatuated with his friend? Would he just be
in love
now, if he’d realized it all those years ago?
Perhaps. But he’d ignored the signs. And now, what could have been love was a beast rising from the depths of his heart, its many reaching limbs tugging on myriad other emotions, twining with fear, and jealousy, resentment, and pride. Yes, he was attracted, he was smitten. He wanted Gladio; by the gods he was aroused by the man, physically and emotionally. And he loved him; of that there was no doubt.
If only he
just
loved him; maybe
that
he could explain.
The schoolteacher was right. Ignis was suffering in silence– but clearly not invisibly. Even if he said nothing, Noct could tell. Prompto could probably tell. Apparently sufficiently perceptive civilians could tell.
Could Gladio tell? Or was he too distracted by his own feelings to notice what was apparently crystal clear on Ignis’ face?
Maybe the correct course of action was to simply tell Gladio, rather than sulk because he didn’t appear to see it. It wasn’t as if he had anything to be afraid of, sharing his honest emotions with his partner. At worst he would laugh and mock Ignis and then leave for good. That was no worse than what he was preparing for already. He dreaded it, but only a little more than he dreaded Gladio leaving with a guilty apology.
What he really feared was that he wouldn’t be able to properly express the emotion in full. Were he to say, directly, “Gladio, I’m in love with you”, there would still be so much left unsaid. Maybe Gladio would infer some of it; he might hear “I adore you, I’m attracted to you, I want to run my hands over every inch of your skin, and I need you to stay by my side”, but that wasn’t
half
of what he wanted to say. It wasn’t a tenth. It was a drop in the ocean. And if Gladio didn’t fully understand, how could he be expected to reply appropriately?
To be fair, and to give his anxiety
only
the amount of spotlight it deserved, Ignis thought of the best case scenario as well. If the gods were smiling down on him that day, just perhaps Gladio would hear his words and they would remind him of some subtle feelings of his own. Ignis was fairly sure that amid the many love-adjacent feelings he had for Gladio, there were several that Gladio shared. He couldn’t say for sure which ones: admiration, he thought probably; appreciation; affection and fondness, of
at least
the kind one might feel for close friends and family. If Ignis was truly lucky, he might even recall their physical gestures with some kind of warmth, and decide to embrace what fledgling feelings of attraction he harbored, and agree to give a real relationship a chance.
Was it likely? Perhaps not. But in order to know, Ignis had to talk to Gladio. It should be simple. All he had to do was face him, and speak.
In theory, it was easy. In practice, speaking the truth was as complicated as the lies they’d woven.
If things had stayed as calm and stable as they’d strove to make them, perhaps the words would never have forced themselves from Ignis’ lips. Only the heat of his anger made him pliant enough to open up…
What happened first was actually a huge relief to Ignis: Aranea came by for dinner, just to tell them she’d be gone for a while.
“I’ve got some business to take care of down south,” she said, stuffing her face because she had to leave fairly soon. “Might not be around for a couple weeks, at least. Could be a couple of months.”
Ignis carefully kept his mouth shut, but the kids went “awww” in perfect unison. She gave them a smile that was gentle enough that it eroded some of Ignis’ hatred.
“Hey, if you’re good while I’m gone, maybe we can go fishing when I get back. What do you say? Prompto? Noctis?”
They nodded enthusiastically, promising her, “We’ll be good!”
“Great,” Gladio said with a grin. “This’ll give me the chance to even out our kill count.”
Aranea laughed. “You act like I won’t be hunting while I’m on the road. Girl’s still gotta eat.”
She didn’t stay much longer, citing an early morning the next day, but she paused in the door before she left. “You guys take care, okay? Don’t do anything crazy while I’m gone.”
For all that she got on Ignis’ frayed nerves, he could believe that Aranea really cared, for the boys as well as Gladio. She even gave Ignis a nod, as if she was entrusting their care to him. It didn’t sit well with him at all. He would have greatly preferred if she was a heartless homewrecker.
But at least she would be gone for a while. (He couldn’t hope that she never returned, or that something happened to her on her travels, but the thought did cross his mind briefly.)
A few weeks went by, and they were some of the best in recent memory, because Ignis didn’t have to dread Gladio being whisked away. It was a welcome reprieve, and just the time he needed to finally explain his feelings. Or so he thought;
none
of the words he needed would come to him during the quiet nights or the lunch dates or the hunts. The moments were too good to want to risk them. Gladio was there with him, and would remain there
at least
until Aranea returned, which could be months yet. But if Ignis spoke those words and they weren’t well received, that would probably be the end of their comfortable arrangement.
The only reason the words finally came to him was because he feared he might not have another chance.
Chapter 19
Notes:
Finally! This chapter is basically one very long scene of non-stop drama. Warning for anybody who's squeamish, there's a fair amount of blood and violence (against beasts/animals) in this one. It's all quite much, but it's the one I've been wanting to get to for ages! I hope it was worth the wait.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It was several months after they’d started hunting together, and Ignis had become accustomed to the process. It was unlikely that he’d ever go out and hunt down a gang of dangerous beasts on his own, but he probably could, which had been his excuse for wanting to go in the first place. He needed to know how to protect himself and Noct, should it ever come to that. And now that his skills had been refreshed, it only made sense to keep honing them, so he went along with Gladio on longer and more frequent hunts. Aranea’s absence helped greatly, as Gladio lacked the excuse that he already had someone to hunt with.
So when a griffon began to circle overhead, screeching and occasionally diving at people or animals who were too exposed, it was clear to Ignis that he and Gladio would defend the town. Gladio, however, was of a different mind.
The extended Scientia family were just leaving their home with the intention of doing some errands when a murmur rose up around them. The bands of light from between the town’s natural stone ceiling were interrupted by a large shadow passing through them, appearing for just a moment in each band, then leaping to the next, like a daemon jumping through shadows. A shriek echoed through the town and the west tunnel, and worried cries rang out in response. The people who weren’t transfixed by the creature started hurrying back to their homes or other enclosed buildings.
Gladio stared up at the thing, tracking its movements, his face contorted into a harsh grimace. “Shit, what’s that thing doing here?” He watched it for another moment, like he was afraid to take his eyes off of it, before he glanced back at Ignis. “Iggy, get the kids inside.”
As Gladio scurried off, Ignis ushered Noct and Prompto back to the house. “Stay inside,” he told them. “Don’t open the door until we’re back.” The kids gave silent nods, so Ignis locked and closed the door, then hurried across town to join Gladio by the hunt board, where Roth was usually to be found. Gunshots began to ring out as he crossed the street, guards feebly attempting to take the creature down, but only succeeding in scaring the townsfolk.
“You’re telling me no one’s available?” Gladio’s voice was raised over the commotion. He stood in front of Roth with his hands clenched. “Hanna? Mikaela?”
“Both out of town,” Roth said. He had his arms crossed defensively, although Ignis knew him well enough now to tell that he wasn’t upset with Gladio, just with the situation.
Grunting in displeasure, Gladio said, “What about Manuel? I saw him this morning.”
Roth shook his head. “Sprained his ankle on the last hunt,” he explained. “And Frank’s got a bad case of pneumonia.” Pausing, he watched Gladio glance worriedly over his shoulder at where the griffon was now diving at something or someone just outside the old town gate. The guards’ gunfire was barely keeping it from landing. ”I’ll go.”
Gladio scowled at the retired hunter. “Hell no, these things are vicious. One nearly tore Jerry in half last year. I’ll go draw it away from town. The guards can back me up from a distance.”
Ignis shared a worried glance with Roth as Gladio turned and hurried off towards the gate, but Roth was in no place to follow after the brash young man, unless it was truly an emergency. Ignis, however, had no intention of leaving his partner to fight on his own, no matter the risk he might put himself in as he tried to help. He was beginning to understand a few things, the new data arranging itself in his head as he jogged after Gladio. The reason he hadn’t mentioned Aranea when they first met must have been because he hadn’t wanted to admit how dangerous the beast they’d fought together was. If it had been the usual sort of danger, he’d have boasted about it, regaled the family with details of the fight, even showed off a few cool new scars. The fact that he’d said fairly little about it proved that it was the sort of danger he hadn’t wanted Ignis to fret over– the sort of danger Ignis had every right to fret over.
Putting on a burst of speed, Ignis caught up with Gladio and grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around. He didn’t even know what he was going to say, but it didn’t matter, because Gladio spoke first. “Watch out for Noct, Iggy,” he said. He turned to slide from Ignis’ grasp, but Ignis caught his hand at the last moment and yanked him back.
“Noct is fine,” he assured Gladio, far more dismissive of their charge’s safety than he normally would be. “But you aren’t going after that beast on your own!”
“Yeah, I am,” Gladio growled. “You didn’t see what it did to Jerry. He’d’ve been torn in two if Aranea hadn’t showed up, and I can’t just wait around for her to show up again.”
It occurred to Ignis that the griffon was the last time Gladio had mentioned hunting with Jerry. It was a belated realization that the man had likely sustained serious damage and retired after that– leaving Gladio to take on a new partner in the man’s absence.
“Indeed,” Ignis replied, bristling at Aranea’s mention. “And how do you plan to avoid such a fate, without Miss Highwind here to rescue you?”
Gladio shook Ignis off. “Doesn’t matter. Someone’s gonna get hurt if I don’t do something.”
“Then we’d best not dawdle,” Ignis said, brushing Gladio’s shoulder with his own as he stalked past.
But Gladio mimicked his earlier move and grabbed Ignis’ wrist, yanking him back, rougher than he’d probably ever been with him. “Ignis, no. Just go home.” The use of his proper name was surprising, but clarifying as well. Gladio almost never called him anything other than Iggy (or babe, if he thought it might get a rise out of him, or someone who was listening); when he did, you could be sure he was serious. Yet his tone of voice was not commanding; it was pleading. Plaintively he added, “I can’t have you getting hurt.”
Ignis scowled. Gladio’s plea should have softened him, but instead it had hit a very sore spot that had been rubbing and chafing for months, if not years. “But it’s fine for you, I suppose?!” He pulled a dagger out of its sheath and gripped it hard. “To get injured, or even killed?”
Behind him, the griffon was still terrorizing the town. It had forsaken landing in the dirt and chosen to perch on one of the ramshackle buildings instead, tearing gouges in the sheet metal with its talons as it shrieked at the people still scurrying around between buildings. The people who’d been hiding inside scrambled out the door, falling over themselves to get away, and drawing the griffon’s attention. Its wild, cat-like eyes swiveled in their direction, and Ignis could see it bracing itself to leap, shifting its claws in anticipation.
Gladio glanced between Ignis and the griffon, and clearly decided where his priorities had to lie, at least for the moment. “Hey!” he screamed at the thing, trying to bring its attention away from the vulnerable townsfolk. Its ear twitched in their direction, but its sharp beak and eyes still faced the people stumbling away. The several town guards and ragtag militia members continued to fire at it, but the shots that hit didn’t even make it flinch, as if they were flies on the back of a garula.
There was no way Ignis could have raised his voice above Gladio’s roar, but there was one thing he could do: he shifted the dagger in his hand, pulled back, and let fly at the beast. Neither he nor Gladio waited to see if it landed; they rushed into the fray, crossing paths with the stream of people trying to escape, and by the time the dagger stuck under the creature’s eye, they’d already put themselves at the center of its attention. It let out a piercing cry of anger as its prey escaped, replaced by the kind that fought back, and of pain, pawing the knife out of its eye. The weapon clattered on the bowing metal rooftop and fell down, clanging on every precarious storey as it went. Ignis dove for it, then rolled away, barely avoiding pieces of building that sloughed off when the griffon shook and launched itself back into the sky.
“Whole neighborhood’s gonna come down if we fight here!” Gladio yelled over the echoes of falling scrap and timber.
Ignis cleared the wreckage and returned to Gladio’s side. “If we aren’t crushed first.” He watched the griffon circle above them, secure in the knowledge that they’d at least angered it enough for it to target them, rather than someone defenseless.
Gladio glanced at Ignis from the corner of his eye, keeping most of his attention on the beast. “Damn it, I didn’t want you here,” he muttered, before sighing gruffly, resigned to the fact that Ignis was here, whether he liked it or not. “Think you can hit it while it’s in flight?”
“I can try.”
“I wanna draw it away from town, maybe up on the hill over the east tunnel. That’s close enough the guards can keep plinking at it, but far enough it shouldn’t cause any more damage. If we can get it to land where it’s flat…”
He didn’t finish the sentence, and Ignis filled in the blank. ‘Then maybe we’ll have a chance, then maybe we can take it down, then maybe we won’t get eviscerated.’ “Lead on,” he said, nodding toward the hill. “I’ll try to keep its attention.”
They wound through the dusty streets, around pieced-together buildings full of Insomnian refugees likely praying for peace, past crowds huddled in doorways or covered alleys as they craned their necks and tried to satisfy their dangerous curiosity, through build sites where the next batch of houses were going up, until they were in the grassy brushland just outside of town. Ignis aimed his knives at the griffon when he noticed its attention start to wander, drawing it back to them. One knife he lost when it missed its mark and went sailing over the town; he could only hope it didn’t come down on someone’s head. One more stuck in the creature’s thick thatch of feathers. The others he was careful only to throw when they would likely fall nearby.
What he wouldn’t give for some of the king’s magic just then, to be able to retrieve their weapons with enviable ease. In the idle corners of his mind, he imagined that perhaps some day Noct would be able to bestow that gift upon them, although by that time they likely wouldn’t have such a need.
By the time they reached the flatter, elevated ground of the hill on the edge of town, Ignis was down to just one of his nicer daggers and a handful of throwing knives, but the plan had worked. The griffon had followed them, and was as irritated as ever. It circled close by, its eagle eyes trained on he and Gladio, mostly ignoring the several guards and militia that had followed at a distance and were still trying to get in strategic shots.
“Now what’s your plan?” Ignis asked, both their eyes still locked on the creature, locked in a standoff with it.
“Kick its ass,” Gladio said simply, settling into a battle stance. As if he could tell that Ignis was going tense at such a non-answer, he rolled his eyes and said, “We’ve just gotta keep its attention long enough to whittle it down, or for it to get bored and fly off.”
Staring at the beast, Ignis didn’t get the feeling that it was likely to get bored any time soon. It seemed intent on them, which led him to believe it was either very hungry, very angry, or possibly rabid.
Whatever it was, though, it was still mortal, and when it did finally come within range he could see the little spots of blood staining its feathers and fur, from where his and the gunmen’s shots had hit. It wasn’t slowed down by the damage, but eventually it had to be. Death by a thousand cuts was not an efficient way of hunting, but with a creature that large and agile, it was a relief to know they had some option for defeating it.
Gladio, of course, hoped he might give it death by several very large cuts instead, and when it realized they were no longer fleeing, it finally gave him the chance. The griffon landed and took to its feet instead, lunging at Gladio in turns as he dodged, parried, and swung at it. He skillfully kept its attention, allowing Ignis to circle around behind it and swipe at its unguarded flank. He got in a good slice on the creature’s heel, hoping he might have severed a tendon, but whether it was of any use, he didn’t know. It kicked out at him, narrowly missing his head, then bounded into the sky again.
“Gotta take out its wings!” Gladio called from the distance the griffon’s absence left between them. “Keep back and see if you can hit them from a distance!”
A thrown knife was only half as effective as one in the hand, but Ignis had to agree that it made more sense than trying to get in close and then dodge razor-clawed kicks to the head, even if it meant the griffon had more attention to spend on the swordsman in front of him. At least Gladio’s massive blade gave him some amount of range.
“I’ll see what I can do!” he yelled back, the words somewhat lost between the gunshots still ringing out from the edge of town.
Eventually the griffon came back down again, after a few unsuccessful attempts to snatch Gladio from mid-air. It lost a claw for its efforts, but it still didn’t so much as limp as it galloped towards them. Ignis wondered if it really might be rabid; it bore pain better than the most hardened of Kingsglaive soldiers.
Ignis could imagine in great detail the fight Gladio and Jerry might have had with the griffon the year before. The beast was strong and quick, a combination not often seen in nature; to make matters worse, it appeared to be intelligent as well. There was no way a single hunter could ever best it, and even two seasoned fighters would need luck on their side. Gladio was holding his own, admirably well, with less than a full hunter’s help between Ignis and the guards’ supporting fire, but Ignis could see him flagging, just ten minutes into the battle. Perhaps the griffon could be defeated in a war of attrition, but with Gladio keeping it distracted, his stamina was bound to wear out far too soon. Already he was visibly sweating; his arms trembled when his sword caught the griffon’s claw above his chest, far too close to his flesh for Ignis’ comfort.
If Aranea happened to show up at exactly that minute, defeat the beast, and then whisk Gladio away, Ignis suspected he might have to thank her. At least Gladio would get away with his head intact.
But he shook the idea from his head. They could do this without her, and furthermore they had to do this without her, because life was rarely as well-timed as fiction and myth. Aranea would not be showing up to save them, and if he wanted to be alive to continue failing to explain his feelings to Gladio, then Ignis had to step up and take charge of the fight, whatever that entailed. And he had to do it quickly; Gladio’s form was becoming loose as he fended off the creature’s attacks, his sword drooping incrementally with each step he and the beast danced around each other.
The wings, Gladio had said. If they disabled the griffon’s wings, it would lose one of its primary advantages. But then it would be earth-bound, and they’d lose the precious moments its periodic flights gave them to catch their breath. It would be better to go for its feet, but there was next to no way to get in that close when it was defending itself with those razor-sharp talons, and Ignis’ throwing knives barely pierced the thick scaly skin. Its wings truly were its least defended point– powerful, but likely fragile as well. They attached to the body with two muscular but thin appendages, and if they were anything like other birds then they were granted flight by just a few pinion feathers.
Perhaps, if his aim was true enough, he thought, he could sever a few of the flight feathers and render the creature unable to properly take flight. Then, within the confusion when it attempted to take to the sky, Gladio could strike a killing blow.
Targeting a few inch-wide feathers was easier said than done, and Ignis didn’t think he’d more than ruffled them, by the time Gladio’s strength finally wore out. A heavy strike against the griffon left him panting and too slow to recover, and he was knocked onto his back by the griffon’s next attack. The moments after that were a blur, the griffon advancing on Gladio as he sluggishly tried to roll to his feet, keeping a grip on his blade. It reached out again and knocked him over once more, and as it leaned back for what could be a decisive blow, Ignis ran forward and grabbed it by a wing, wrestling it away from Gladio.
The move was apparently surprising enough to stop the griffon from landing a deadly strike against Gladio’s exposed back. It squawked in indignation, sounding more like a chocobo than a majestic and dangerous beast, and turned towards Ignis, ripping its wing away irritably. But Ignis had latched on in desperation, and it flung him up off his feet and into the air. He landed awkwardly across the griffon’s back, scrabbling to hold on as the thing bounded into the sky.
It only dimly occurred to Ignis that he was a hundred feet in the air, miles and miles of sunlit Cleigne visible all around him, Duscae in the eastern distance, ocean to the north. The memory of it would return to him later, in quieter moments, but just then all that mattered was that he had the griffon in his grasp, and that it had him nearly in reach as well. It screamed its displeasure as it tried to kick him off its back, but it couldn’t manage while in flight, so it reached over its shoulder with its beak as pointed and sharp as a pickaxe and tried to bite him. Hardly a conscious thought passed through Ignis’ head, but between the terror and drive to save Gladio, he somehow found his body moving. With a primal shout, he stabbed the creature straight in its gleaming eye, and when it wrenched its head away he stabbed it in the back of the head, and through the neck, and everywhere else he could reach. Its downy feathers were thick, and the little throwing knife was short, and its screeching and lurching threw off any semblance of aim, but Ignis continued to stab the griffon until blood coated his hands, and air began to rush rapidly around him, blowing feathers up into his face, as beast and rider fell.
“Iggy!” he distantly heard through the rushing of the wind and the pounding of blood in his ears as awareness faded in. That was Gladio all the way down there, clearly still alive, thank the gods, and this was Ignis, far too many feet above, but closing the distance all too quickly. There were feathers under his sticky fingers, and the sky-blue view was becoming green and summer brown alarmingly fast as they made to rejoin the earth. And all Ignis could do was hold on, and fight not to close his eyes, lest this view be his last.
Wildly, Ignis did not die when they reached the ground, and more insane still was the way the griffon’s bones gave a great crunch and it still picked itself up off the ground with a warbling cry. It lurched across the ground toward Gladio like a creature gone mad, Ignis apparently forgotten, and threw itself upon him with all its remaining strength, sandwiching itself between the two hunters and trying to gouge one last meal out of Gladio. But in the intense twenty seconds they’d been in the air, Gladio had recovered enough for one final blow, and he stabbed his greatsword awkwardly up through its neck. Its blood-slick blade came to rest mere inches from Ignis’ face.
Finally dead, the griffon slumped over on Gladio, impaling itself further. Ignis rolled out of the way of the blade, toppling off the creature’s back and onto trampled grass, landing hard on his shoulder but ignoring the pain in favor of scrambling to Gladio’s side. Immediately he grabbed the beast by its ear and beak and tugged its dead weight off of Gladio’s body, letting him crawl free. His greatsword propped up the griffon’s chest just enough to give him the space to slide his legs out and scramble to his feet.
“Iggy, that was crazy!” he said with a delusional grin, grabbing Ignis’ arm in exhausted enthusiasm, the weight of his arms nearly dragging them both down. Gladio heaved several more heavy breaths, huffing laughter layered through each one. His voice shaking but laced with relief, he said, “Aranea’s not gonna believe this.”
As if possessed, Ignis punched him in the face, leaving a smear of griffon blood on his cheek, and a bewildered look on Gladio’s face as he toppled back and landed in the dirt.
“After all that!” he yelled, shaking with rage. He balled up his fists so tightly his trim nails dug grooves into his palms, but the pain didn’t ground him. “We nearly died, and the first thing from your lips is her name!”
No creature on Eos had probably ever seen Ignis so livid, nor Gladio so frightened; his eyes were huge and his face had gone pale under the streaks of blood, mouth fallen open in silence. To the credit of his charming nature, he quickly half-recovered, sitting up off his elbow and smiling apologetically.
“Sorry, Iggy,” he said, sounding even more shaken than before. “I was just joking.”
His face cold while the rest of him burned white hot, Ignis replied, “Save your excuses. I’m quite through with them.”
His words seemed to cast a spell of slowness on Gladio, who stared up at him as if nearly paralyzed. His lips parted like words were going to come out, but all that emerged was a strangled little sound.
Gladio’s silence infuriated Ignis further. “A joke is what we are. A tale we spin for the masses, a lie to laugh about behind everyone’s backs. I suppose after all this time, I shouldn’t be surprised that it’s the only excuse you can muster.”
Gladio’s gaze was truly worried now, not for himself and his bruising cheek, but for Ignis. The confusion and pity only added to his anger. “Who’s laughing behind anyone’s backs?” he asked.
“You and Aranea, I imagine,” Ignis answered. “When you have the decency to bother being discreet. I suppose I should be grateful that you haven’t been entirely blatant. I’ve only been approached about your infidelity once.”
“Wait, what?” Gladio got to his feet, though he didn’t close the distance between them.
Ignis didn’t bother explaining Miss Contreras’ comments about his silent suffering, or the implication that Gladio was hurting him. It didn’t matter. Why should Gladio care that he’d hurt Ignis? They weren’t true partners anymore, if they’d ever been.
“At this point it would be best for everyone if you just made your final decision and got on with it.” A little ways down the hill, two of the guards were hurrying towards them, most likely to offer assistance. Ignis held his hand up to stop them and motioned for them to go back the way they came. Returning his gaze to Gladio, he said, “Noct will be hurt by your departure, but children survive divorce every day, and he’s survived worse already.”
His eyebrows drawing down, Gladio said, “Hold on, why would I leave Noct?”
Just barely mindful of the blood on his hands, Ignis didn’t cross his arms, hoping to spare his shirt any further staining, although it would be the very least of his worries. But he glared at Gladio and said, “You aren’t taking him, not over my rotting corpse.” Sardonically he added, “Though I’m sure Miss Highwind would make a wonderful mother.”
A surprised laugh bubbled out of Gladio, although he tried to contain it and the slight smile, like he was still (wisely) wary of joking after Ignis’ outburst. “I don’t think she’s cut out for the job. Anyway, no one could take your place.”
“And nobody could take yours, Gladio,” Ignis responded automatically. He was angry with himself that his ire towards Gladio was fading so quickly, but his complex adoration persisted, even when the man was actively breaking his heart. “Whether you like it or not, you’re a central figure in our lives, and if you’ve a mind to leave then I hope you realize the irreparable damage it will do.”
Gladio grimaced, hunched slightly into his broad shoulders. “Gods, Iggy. Almost sounds like you want me to leave.”
“It’s the last thing I want!” Ignis yelled, his breath gone ragged as the moment of their separation drew ever more painfully close. He realized he was close to tears, and the realization made him even angrier, even more depressed. “But I grow tired of waiting for you to decide if you’ll finally cut your ties with us, or simply continue stringing us along in Aranea’s wake.”
Mildly exasperated but still trying to rein in any emotions, lest he trigger another of Ignis’ outbursts, Gladio said, “What’s Aranea got to do with any of this?”
“You tell me,” Ignis replied, quiet and dangerous.
Gladio just stared at him, his mouth hanging softly open. After the silence stretched for a moment too long, Ignis shook his head, taking the lack of explanation or stammered excuses for an admission.
“I was right.” Ignis hunched in on himself and turned away, gazing off into the distance while he willed his tempest emotions to stop raging inside a body that felt too fragile to contain them. By the gods, he’d hoped he’d misread the situation, or that Gladio would at least try to make some excuse, try to salvage the relationship they’d patched together over the years. His silence was deafening.
A little huff drew his attention back to Gladio. He thought he might find Gladio stifling a tiny sob of guilt, but instead Ignis found him laughing. It was a mild, tentative laughter, warring with a number of other emotions in Gladio’s expression, and it made Ignis a little sick. “No, she was right,” Gladio said, responding many moments too late to make any sense to Ignis, whose emotions had already begun to wander down a lonely path away from Gladio. But when he added, “You’re jealous,” as if the word was a major revelation, bringing a bright light to his eyes, Ignis bristled.
He nearly growled. “I think I have the right to be jealous when someone tries to take my partner for her own.” It was uncomfortable, but he’d begun to understand his feelings enough that he could admit it, and at this point there was simply no reason not to. At least perhaps he could win the argument, if he couldn’t win Gladio.
Practically gleeful, Gladio corrected him: “You mean your husband.”
“Oh, a fine distinction,” Ignis spat sarcastically. “I’m sure Aranea is quite bothered by it.”
“I don’t really care if she’s bothered by it,” Gladio said, his expression gone more soft as the fear and confusion dissipated and the sudden cheer mellowed. “Whatever she thinks about us, doesn’t really matter to me. Ignis, she doesn’t want me, not the kind of way you’re thinking. Not really any kind of way, other than as an occasional hunting buddy. And I don’t want her for anything more than that. Heck, even hunting with her’s not that important.”
Ignis could hardly believe what he was hearing. Oh, he believed that he was hearing it, but the story was just too far-fetched. “Gladio, you needn’t lie to me.” He swallowed, his throat much less clear than he was comfortable with. “I’ve seen the way your eyes light up when she comes around.”
Gladio grimaced, but it was in embarrassment, not guilty shame. “Ok, so I’m not that great at hiding my emotions,” he admitted. “But it’s not what you think. She’s just… a good friend.”
“Mm-hmm.” Ignis stared at him, unconvinced.
Groaning, Gladio put his head in his hand. “I’m serious. When we started hanging out, I realized…” He ran his hand through his hair, and Ignis held his breath, both trying and trying not to guess what Gladio was going to say next. “I realized… I missed having friends, like I did back in the city.” He looked up into Ignis’ eyes, and unfortunately for the stubborn pride that Ignis was grasping at, the expression on his face was so earnest. “I used to be surrounded by people, growing up. Y’know. Family, friends, the Crownsguard and the ‘glaive, and all the servants. When I met her, I realized how much I missed all that.”
Begrudgingly, Ignis had to admit that he understood, even if he didn’t feel that way personally. Gladio had always been such a social butterfly that it probably was hard for him to be living in a town where there were so many people, but so few that he was close to. It had to have been hard to separate himself from his remaining family and the Crownsguard tribe, just for Noct’s sake.
It made the excuse sound very plausible, but was it really true? “So you’re telling me you don’t care a whit for Aranea?”
“I care a whit for her,” Gladio said, shrugging. “‘Course I do. She’s kinda like the big sister I never had. But there’s nothin’–, I mean, you don’t gotta be jealous of her. She’s not trying to take me away, and if she did then I’d just tell ‘er to kick rocks, ‘cuz, y’know, obviously I’m taken.”
Ignis frowned deeply at Gladio. “But you’re not,” he said.
“Sure I am,” Gladio replied with a cocky grin that was only a little tamer than usual. “Ask anyone around here.” He gestured vaguely, but Ignis thought it rather proved his point.
They were up on the hill, quite a little ways from the hustle and bustle of town, and although they could see people on the nearest streets, perhaps even well enough to recognize someone they knew well, even a hearty shout was unlikely to be heard by them. There was nobody around to ask, nobody to corroborate Gladio’s claim. For the moment, in the ways that mattered, they were alone. And when they were alone, they were little more than colleagues.
“Gladio…” Ignis said softly, sadly. “Perhaps it’s time we reevaluated our story. Noct grows less vulnerable by the day. Soon, this relationship may no longer be necessary.”
“First off, you’re wrong,” Gladio said, staring at Ignis like he was a little disappointed. “Second, what if it’s necessary to me?”
Ignis raised a skeptical eyebrow, but mostly he wished Gladio would stop playing around. “Please, Gladio, there’s nobody to pretend for. I admire the dedication you’ve had all these years, but just once, won’t you drop the act and say what Gladiolus Amicitia is thinking?”
With an inscrutable expression, Gladio took a step closer to Ignis and said, “I’m thinking Gladiolus Amicitia doesn’t exist anymore, and I’m thinking I’m okay with that. I’m thinking it’s been a long time since I was pretending to anyone, and I’m thinking… you’re the one that oughtta stop pretending.” He took another step closer.
It was Ignis’ first instinct to protest that he wasn’t pretending about anything, but even if that wasn’t too honest (putting aside the fact that he’d just asked Gladio for honesty, and owed him his in return), he knew it wasn’t true. He hadn’t been pretending that he loved Gladio; he’d been pretending that he didn’t. And he was pretending still, with every minute that he didn’t admit it.
But he hesitated too long, and Gladio shook his head, rolling his eyes with mostly-fond exasperation. “It’s fine,” he said. “I’ll start.”
Closing the small distance between them, he took Ignis’ face in his hands and kissed him with gentle determination. Ignis’ already uneven heart rate jumped. He wound his tacky hands in Gladio’s hair, largely ignoring how the strands stuck to the blood all over his fingers, and returned the kiss. But instead of closing his eyes, he looked over Gladio’s shoulder, instinctively searching for who might be observing the display of affection, who was there to validate the kiss.
“There’s no one there,” Gladio murmured, his voice deep and gently teasing. He offered Ignis another kiss, and another when he took the first. “Nobody’s around to prove anything to.” He nuzzled his nose and then forehead against Ignis’, heedless of the sweat coating them both. “So why are we still doing this?”
It was not a rhetorical question, but it was one which Gladio seemed to know the answer to. He was quizzing Ignis, prompting him to provide the answer he should know, like a school teacher who felt he’d given his clever student plenty of time to research the topic. His hands still cradled Ignis’ face, and he pressed gentle kisses all over his mouth. He’d walked them back a step with each kiss, and now when Ignis looked over Gladio’s shoulder he saw that the curve of the hill completely obscured their view of the town. Only the gods watched them now, and they’d probably been shaking their heads in disbelief for some time already.
Gladio nipped at Ignis’ lip. “Iggy, aren’t you gonna push me away? Tell me we oughtta save it for later?” He stroked his thumb along the side of Ignis’ face. “Because if that’s what you want, then I’ll back off.”
What Ignis really wanted was to explain himself to Gladio, all those emotions that had been plaguing him since they came to light and even before, but even the simplest of words felt impossible. So in desperation he closed his eyes and let gravity take over; he leaned back and pulled Gladio with him down into a pile of clovers. It was a less than graceful maneuver, but when Ignis laid back and pulled Gladio to his mouth, the tension of falling melted away from Gladio and he melted into Ignis.
“I don’t want that,” Ignis said, the words tickling his throat as they escaped. “I want you near. I always want you near.”
“Good,” Gladio murmured. “‘Cuz I’m not leaving your side. I’m gonna be as near as you want– maybe even nearer.”
Ignis gazed up into his eyes, so close he’d have to take off his glasses to focus on them. “There is no nearer than what I want.”
Smirking, Gladio said, “That sounds like a challenge.” But his teasing expression quickly mellowed to one that reflected what Ignis was feeling– something like relief and hope. Touching their foreheads together, Gladio softly muttered, “Sorry I made you think I might leave. That’s never been my plan. ‘Til death do us part, I’m here to look after Noct, and stand by you while I do.”
“That’s all I really wanted to hear,” Ignis replied, relaxing into the clovers. The tension of years of worry melted away, leaving him feeling pleasantly weak. Weakness and tiredness was never something he could stand in himself, but knowing that Gladio would be there to lean on helped transform the feeling into something warm and comforting.
“Hope that’s not all you wanna hear,” Gladio said as he leaned up on his elbow. “‘Cuz I’ve got a lot more to say, whenever we’re done kissing.”
Shaking his head, Ignis laughed and said, “I don’t expect we’ll ever be done, but we can pause for the time being. Please, Gladio, tell me what you have to say.” He laid back and fondly watched Gladio, so at peace that he didn’t think he’d mind even if Gladio took all day to say what was on his mind.
But Gladio didn’t need to deliberate, or search for the right words. As much as Ignis was the ‘intelligent one’, it was always Gladio who’d had a better way with words. “Where to even start,” he said, though it only took half a moment to find the place. “I’ve been waiting for this for ages. It was hard to say anything, ‘cuz I was never totally sure how you felt. When we kissed, it felt like you were into it, but I thought maybe you were just a really good actor. I thought I could tell you how I felt through actions alone, and if you felt the same then I’d be able to tell, but, uh, I guess I shoulda just opened my dumb mouth, huh?”
“I can’t blame you,” Ignis said, all judgment having dissipated from his heart in the past few minutes. “I also struggled to open my dumb mouth. I was afraid what came out wouldn’t represent how I truly felt. And… I didn’t want to push you away sooner, if you were of a mind to leave. I needed as much of you as I could have, for as long as I could have it, even if that was not as much as I would have liked.”
Gladio chuckled, appreciative of their combined failure. “Damn. If only someone woulda knocked some sense into us.”
“You said Aranea told you I was jealous?” Ignis asked, raising an eyebrow.
Scratching a hand through his hair, where Ignis had left a mess with his own bloodstained fingers, Gladio sheepishly admitted, “Yeah, she did say something like that. But, what? Like I was just gonna believe her? She got the same story everyone else did, so it’s not like there was a reason for her to think we weren’t peachy keen.”
“I imagine she noticed I was less than cordial to her,” Ignis said, laughing but feeling a little guilty about his treatment of the woman. He’d have to apologize to her whenever she returned from her long trip, and perhaps thank her for making the comment that had apparently clued Gladio into Ignis’ feeling, if a bit late.
“Still, sorry I didn’t somehow get my act together,” Gladio said, giving Ignis a chaste kiss of apology. “Wish I could go back and tell myself I was being an idiot, although who knows if I’d’ve even listened to myself.”
Ignis patted Gladio’s shoulder consolingly. “It’s history now. We’ve got a long road ahead of us. I’m sure we can make it up to each other along the way.”
A charming but very genuine smile came over Gladio’s face. “If you’ll have me.”
“I would be happy to,” Ignis said, sealing the deal with another passionate kiss.
It didn’t go on for long before, to Ignis’ surprise, Gladio pulled away with a little cringe. “I’d, uh, love to keep this up forever, but d’ya think maybe we oughtta tell people they can come outta their houses now?”
Ignis responded with his own grimace. “That would be the responsible thing to do, wouldn’t it? Not to forget poor Noct and Prompto. I can only assume they’re waiting for news.”
Gladio laughed and rolled off of Ignis, pulling him to his feet a moment later. “What are the other options? Running around, trying to help?”
“Gods forbid,” Ignis replied. He dusted off his pants, but it didn’t do much good; the grass bits that came off mostly stuck to his tacky hands. “If we’re lucky, perhaps they simply decided not to worry about us being killed.”
“Painful in a totally different way,” Gladio said, laughing lightly. He glanced over at the griffon corpse. “Lotta good loot on that thing, but I don’t think anyone’s gonna make off with it. I’ll come back after we check in at the town.”
Finally feeling more stable, both physically and emotionally, they began the trek back towards town. They didn’t hold hands, primarily because they were sweaty wherever they weren’t otherwise disgusting, but Ignis felt that even if he somehow never got to touch Gladio again, he’d still be content, just knowing how he felt. He hoped Gladio felt the same level of relief.
He hoped Gladio somehow understood all the little details he hadn’t been able to explain, how Ignis’ need to keep him near was tied up in so many other emotions, emotions that “love” only did so much to imply.
It occurred to Ignis then that, although they definitely seemed to be on the same page now, he hadn’t actually told Gladio anything. Pausing just where the hill began to slope down towards the town, he grabbed Gladio’s arm and said, “Wait, before we return to our lives, I should clarify: I love you, Gladio. I’m in love with you.”
Gladio nearly choked on a surprised laugh. “I sure hope so,” he said with a grin, his eyes lit up joyfully. “I’m not really into making out with people who just like me a little bit. Probably even less likely to marry ‘em.”
“You mean being married,” Ignis corrected him with a little smirk, “given that we skipped any officiation.”
“That’s a shame, too,” Gladio said, shaking his head with exaggerated disappointment. “We oughtta fix that, get married for real. Whaddya say?”
Ignis was probably blushing at the suggestion, but at this point he was well past falling all over himself at Gladio’s romantic gestures, a little too tired to make a big fuss over something that was… kind of past the point, anyway. “I would say ‘yes’, except for the logistics,” he replied. “We might have a difficult time explaining to people why we need to get married a second time. Even so, I’ll think about it.”
“Play hard to get, why dontcha.” Gladio gave his usual charming smirk, and nudged Ignis with his elbow, to which Ignis replied by setting a light but lingering kiss upon his lips. Now blushing himself, Gladio added, “Hey, would it help persuade you if I told you I love you too?”
“It might,” Ignis said, turning away coyly and continuing the walk towards town.
“What if I told you I’m in love with you too?”
“Oh, well that does it,” Ignis joked, glancing over his shoulder with a smile probably lighter and more genuine than he’d worn in years, the past few minutes notwithstanding. “You’d best find a priest immediately. I simply can’t wait any longer.”
Luckily Gladio knew he was joking, and they fell back into a comfortable banter that had been somewhat lacking in their relationship for years.
“Well that was too easy! You’ve gotta put up a better fight.”
“I’ll show you a better fight,” Ignis said, glancing at him with a comically sultry look. “If you’re well-behaved.”
The repartee continued the whole way home, with pauses and segues into business, as they reported the griffon’s death to the relevant parties and received their thanks and promises of rewards. Although they agreed to accept whatever Roth scraped together for the impromptu hunt, they both privately agreed that they’d already gotten more from it than they could have ever hoped.
Notes:
I wasn't supposed to post this chapter until next week (especially since I haven't got the next one done yet, hah, don't tell!), but it's my birthday so I'm posting it as a present to myself lol. I would be much behooved if you would let me know what you liked about the chapter! <3
Next one will be in about a month, if I can get my head properly wrapped around the plot.
As always, thanks so much for sticking around!Oh, also. I, uh, redid my outline, so as you may be able to see, the estimated total chapters are now... more. XD; Again.
Chapter Text
People seemed to notice the abrupt improvement of their moods. The next week, although she didn’t say anything, like she’d promised not to, Ignis spotted Miss Contreras give him a very pleased smile when he went to pick up the kids. Maybe she’d noticed that Noctis and Prompto were happier too. The boys were clearly reflecting the positive mood their parents were in, and Ignis felt a little bad about ever keeping this sort of cheer from them, even if it had been unintentional. He belatedly promised himself he’d take better care of his own emotions, for their sakes.
Then again, maybe they were just happy that they’d gotten their own room. With considerable haste, Gladio had finished the loft room off the hallway, furnishing it with several small beds and moving most of the kids toys up there as well. On the day of the griffon hunt, they’d come home and wanted to tumble into bed (after a shower), but encountered something of a roadblock: Noct and Prompto clinging to them. The boys had been so excited by the griffon fight that they’d been hanging on their arms all evening, even after being told the slightly child-proofed story of the griffon’s death several times. They were clearly so enamored with their parents that they wanted to stay by their sides all night.
Of course they’d allowed it. Noctis was still their main priority, even if both of the adults were now burning with six years of delayed desire. They’d cuddled into bed as a family, as they often did, but over the childrens’ heads they’d shared a meaningful and longing look, and the next morning found Gladio hard at work on house improvement. It was just a few days later that they sat Noct down for what they hoped wouldn’t be too hard of a discussion.
“Noct,” Ignis started carefully, “you’ve grown up quite a lot this year, and we think it’s perhaps time you had a space of your own. What do you say to having your own bedroom?”
For a moment Noct looked worried. “You mean I have to sleep by myself? What about Prompto?”
Relief flooded Ignis after a moment of concern. “Of course Prompto can stay with you.”
That was all Noct wanted to hear; his face immediately brightened and he gave a little excited hop. “Then yes! I mean, yes please.”
The two kids had been overjoyed by their new room. They even seemed to like having to climb a ladder to get to it, though it was bound to be a little precarious when they were sleepy. (They could hardly walk straight when they were tired enough.) Ignis decided it was well worth the risk, but he placed a plush rug at the bottom of the ladder anyway.
After that night, the extended Scientia family were in such high spirits that their good cheer could probably be seen like a beacon from the ruins of Insomnia. The townsfolk of Meldacio certainly noticed, but instead of any kind of suspicion, which Ignis faintly worried there might be, everyone just seemed glad for them. He doubted most of them suspected the parents’ good mood was because they were finally able to blow off years of accumulated steam and channel their love into the appropriate places; they probably just thought it was pride, relief, and lingering endorphins from the defeat of the griffon, which just so happened to be true as well. It was a fantastic week for Ignis, all around.
Almost surprisingly, nothing went wrong the next week or two. He’d thought something might come crashing down around them to sink their elevated mood, but at worst it just mellowed out and tapered down into a comfortable level of contentment. Things went back to normal: the kids went to school, Gladio returned to his more usual hunts, and Ignis handled everything in between, sometimes accompanying one or the other. And at night he and Gladio curled around one another, taking up such little space in the bed that Ignis wondered if they should get a smaller one and use the extra floor space in the room for a desk, or some book shelves.
(This was not a serious consideration because, as Ignis expected, Noct and Prompto still found their way down the ladder and into their parents’ room in the middle of the night sometimes, and Ignis couldn’t even say he minded. It had been so many years now that the visceral need to cling bodily to the tiny prince had mostly subsided, replaced by more mundane concerns and emotions, but he still remembered holding the vulnerable little boy with no small level of warm contentment.)
But the world they lived in was not a peaceful one, no matter what kind of comfortable life they’d eked out for themselves. Maybe the griffon had been a harbinger of ill tidings, or maybe it had just been another victim of the changing landscape, because things were changing. The former Insomnians were continuing to settle the once-wild plains of Cleigne and Duscae, which pushed the land’s former inhabitants into the less human-habitable zones between, the mountains and rivers. According to Gladio, the swamplands of the Vesperpool were becoming too beast-ridden for the average person to even safely traverse the area.
One would have thought (at least in Ignis’ estimation, although he admitted he was no kind of biologist) that the destruction of the creatures’ habitats would have caused a decline in their population, but it seemed the inhabitants of Lucis were all stubborn and strong-willed, both the people and the animals. They continued to thrive in defiance of each other, determined to survive despite everything.
Unbeknownst to the Scientia family, there was another creature nominally of Lucis that had held on stubbornly to its own existence. It was neither a living creature, nor one sustained with magic, but it had existed for a very long time and it took itself very seriously.
This creature was the government.
Ignis had been very happy to forget the existence of the erstwhile monarchy for the past few years, for all that he’d been raised to serve it. While the monarchy of Lucis had been in power, he’d been happy to be of assistance to it, and he’d looked forward to serving as the king’s diplomatic advisor. (He hadn’t had a great deal of choice in the matter, being enlisted at such a young age, but it wasn’t a destiny he’d even remotely considered railing against. It was an honor to serve the crown, after all, something he still believed.)
But things were different now, and Noct was different now; different than he might have been, had he been raised the way everyone intended. Ignis could no longer be an enthusiastic servant to the monarchy. To his mind, it no longer existed as more than a memory, a concept.
It was, however, a memory that many weren’t willing to let go of, a concept some still wished to implement. And it wasn’t as if Ignis didn’t understand. Although many, if not perhaps most, of the refugees from Insomnia had found new homes and lives and lived with some level of autonomy, there was still the looming threat of Niflheim and its warmongering Empire, which gave very little pretense about wanting to take over the whole of Lucis, now that it had no government to protect it.
And Ignis had heard mutterings here and there of various would-be politicians trying to form some kind of governing body, supposedly so that they could fight back against the Empire, but everybody (themselves included, most likely) knew that would be a pretty vain attempt. Only the revered line of kings was strong enough to keep their enemies at bay. Everyone knew the king’s power was what had protected them for generations.
But even Ignis hadn’t known just what that power entailed, or why the Nifs had feared it so much. He, like most others, had assumed it was the raw magical power the line of kings inherited which had been such a strong deterrent. He’d known nothing of the prophecy that hung over his son’s head.
He learned far more than he’d ever wanted to know, the night of Aranea’s return.
Ever since the day of the battle with the griffon, Ignis’ feelings towards Aranea had mellowed considerably. He felt quite guilty about the way he’d viewed her, like some sort of homewrecker when apparently she’d really just been exactly what she’d appeared: a good friend to Gladio, who certainly deserved to have someone other than Ignis in his life, no matter how they felt about each other. Gladio was essentially an extrovert, and he’d always loved to spend time with friends and family, and even casual acquaintances. That wasn’t something he could do as much in their new life, for a variety of reasons, and Ignis was (retroactively) incredibly grateful to Aranea for filling the void he hadn’t quite realized had been bothering Gladio so much.
Whenever she returned to town, Ignis planned to make her a feast in thanks. He thought they could call it a celebration of their recent successes, in lieu of admitting that his bitter jealousy had made him treat her poorly. He wasn’t that keen on apologizing, particularly when that might hint that his and Gladio’s relationship had been less secure than they’d pretended, but he did want to make it up to her in some fashion.
Instead, they found themselves rather blindsided one evening, when a knock at their front door interrupted dinner. Ignis and Gladio exchanged a look as Ignis stood from the tiny dining table to go see what the matter was; they didn’t often have visitors, particularly not at that time of night, when most of their acquaintances were also having dinner and settling in. Ignis rather pessimistically expected it would be Roth with another rogue creature sighting that nobody but Gladio could handle, so he took a deep breath before he pulled the door open, steeling himself for a situation he could only hope wasn’t as bad as the griffon. He didn’t expect to see Aranea standing there, but it didn’t surprise him greatly. What did surprise him was the serious look on her face, and the several people standing stiffly behind her.
“Evening, Ignis,” Aranea said with a nod and a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, which were creased with a guilty tension.
“Aranea,” Ignis said in greeting, more curious than suspicious. Even so, he couldn’t help but pull the door closer as his gaze drifted to the strangers behind their hunter friend, blocking off the view of the inside of the house. “Good to see you’ve returned from your… business trip?” He glanced between her and her supposed friends, who wore heavy traveling clothes that obscured many of their features. Still he thought he glimpsed the jut of weapons beneath their cloaks. That, combined with the upright way they held themselves, gave the impression that they were anything other than refugees in need of shelter.
She just nodded instead of responding with any kind of platitude. “Is Gladio home?”
Ignis glanced over his shoulder and found Gladio already standing, awkwardly hovering at the side of the table, unsure if he was needed. Everyone inside the house could hear anything said at the front door, so small the space was, but from the kitchen table they couldn't see that Aranea had brought guests, and Gladio was clearly wondering why she hadn't just invited herself in already. He was at Ignis’ side nearly as soon as his name was said, but he waited for Ignis to make room for him in the thin opening.
“Hey,” he said warmly as he spied Aranea, but his expression cooled when he noticed who was standing behind her. His ability to recognize a potential adversary at a glance was even better than Ignis’, and he stiffened when he saw them, leaning ever so slightly into the door frame, both to adopt a pose of nonchalance and to better reach his greatsword where it was hanging on the wall just inside.
“Hey,” she replied, shifting her weight to her other foot. Ignis noted that at least it didn’t look like she was on the offensive at all, so these dangerous strangers probably weren’t about to attack them. “Sorry to spring this on you, but I’ve got some friends who want to meet you.” She glanced over her shoulder, not at her friends, but around the town, as if to see how many people were watching them. “Think we could come in?”
Gladio didn’t even need to share a look with Ignis; they were both on the same page when it came to meeting people. Despite the acclaim Gladio had amassed as a hunter, there should be no reason for anyone from out of town to want to meet him, let alone to travel the kind of distance they’d probably traveled, if Aranea had really gone as far south as she’d implied. But Ignis didn’t get the feeling that her request was one she’d let them back down from, and he could see in the set of Gladio’s shoulders that he knew it too.
Reaching inside, Gladio slowly grabbed his sword and slung it over his shoulder. “Sorry, it’s dinnertime and we didn’t make enough for everyone. How ‘bout we take this outside?”
One of the travelers stepped forward, closer to Aranea’s shoulder, and peeked out from under her hood, her pale blue eyes beseeching and framed by pale blonde hair. “This is a conversation we should have in private, Mr. Amicitia,” she said in an accent Ignis rarely heard outside of his own.
Immediately, Ignis’ metaphorical hackles rose, and Gladio’s grip on his sword tightened. “‘Fraid your information’s out of date,” he said. The mass of his body almost seemed to increase, blocking more of the living room from view. “It’s Scientia now.”
Another of Aranea’s companions stepped forward, and this one took his hood down entirely, a show of faith that Ignis appreciated. The handsome stranger gave Gladio a challenging scowl and said, “I didn’t think Amicitias gave up their names for anything.”
“And what would you know about that?” Gladio asked, although Ignis could see that the comment had gotten beneath his armor.
“Enough,” the man said, crossing his arms. “I worked with your father, before everything fell apart. He was a proud man who never would’ve pretended to be someone he wasn’t.”
“You’re ‘glaive?” Ignis muttered, staring at the man in surprise.
But this man’s identity was not what caught Gladio’s attention. “Who the hell do you think you are?” Gladio growled. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”
With the slightest hint of apology in her voice, Aranea said, “He does, actually. That’s why we’re here. And, Gladio… You’ll want to hear what they have to say.”
A look passed between Ignis and Gladio, a silent discussion they’d always been able to have that had just gotten quicker and clearer since their relationship had become more real. Whether the man before them was truly a part of the former Kingsglaive or not, the strangers Aranea had brought with her obviously knew things that nobody was supposed to know, things the two of them had never told anyone who hadn’t already known them before Insomnia’s fall. There was no way they could ignore this situation without it quickly spiralling out of control; there was the chance that things were already no longer under their control, and they were just about to learn of the impending spiral.
Grudgingly, they backed away from the door, nodding the group into the small living space. Ignis hurried up to the kids at the table, who were trying to act like they hadn’t been craning their necks to see their guests. “Why don’t you finish your meals in your room?” he suggested, nodding them into the hallway with their plates. “We have some business to discuss with these folks, and there isn’t enough room for everyone to crowd in here.”
“Really?” Noct asked, his eyes wide, but as much with suspicion as excitement. “You never let us eat messy stuff up there.”
“Don’t make a mess with it and it won’t be a problem,” Ignis replied, ushering them up the ladder and then handing their plates up to them. He returned to the kitchen as soon as the hatch was shut, and found the strangers staring at the hallway, where they’d clearly caught a glimpse of the boys on their way out. The looks on their faces were inscrutable to him at the time, though they made more sense a few minutes later.
The small room that was both living room and kitchen was indeed quite crowded with six adults standing about awkwardly. Clearing his throat, Ignis gestured to the weapon racks and coat hooks by the door. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. If we’re going to insist upon this meeting, we may as well act like civilized people. Tea?”
The second still-cloaked figure, a stocky, scruffy man with a softer posture than his ‘glaive companion, raised his hand with a smile. “Been on the road for ages,” he complained. “I’ll take one; with a whiskey if you’ve got it.”
”Libertus,” the ‘glaive said in warning. “We’re here for a job. We can drink later.”
“I’ll take you out tomorrow,” Aranea told Libertus from where she’d sat on the couch after hanging up her spear. “There’s a place with this local ale you’ll like.”
Despite the casual commentary, Aranea looked like she was forcing the nonchalance. Her expression still seemed faintly guilty, and she wouldn’t meet Ignis’ eyes for more than a moment. She crossed a leg over her knee and leaned so slightly away from Gladio, who sat next to her, that nobody other than Ignis could probably tell that she was acting unusual. (He’d spent an inordinate amount of time staring at her out of the corner of his eye, the past year, so he was much more familiar with her natural posture than he had any right to be.)
The other three sat awkwardly at the tiny dining table, and gave Ignis silent nods in regards to the tea, which he quickly busied himself with. “Thank you for agreeing to see us,” the blonde lady said to him, clearly recognizing him as the one in charge of the home.
“We weren’t given much of a choice,” Ignis said, allowing himself to sound at least half as annoyed as he was, “you throwing Gladio’s maiden name around like that.”
“I’m truly sorry,” the young woman said, bowing her head. Ignis could see now that she was young, possibly younger than him, and very elegantly kempt, despite apparent time on the road. “I gather that your privacy is important to you, but it is vital that we speak to you. We’ve come a very long way.”
“I bet,” Gladio grumbled, eying Aranea. “Is that why you were gone?” Aranea shifted slightly towards him, as if considering what she might say, but he didn’t give her time. “So you told them? How did you even know who I was?”
She sighed, and for all that it was only air, the gesture felt weighty. “Hear them out first,” she said softly, “and then I’ll explain myself, if you really want to know.”
“So then,” Ignis began, not wanting to wait any longer. “Would you mind telling us who you are and why you’re here?” He glanced over his shoulder at the elegant blonde, but kept his hands busy preparing tea, lest he start wringing them or find them balled into fists.
“Yes, I’m sorry,” she said, standing from her seat and giving him a bow, then turning it to Gladio. “I am Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, princess of Tenebrae. I come seeking the prince of Lucis. I am told he is in your care.”
Ignis froze, a shiver running through him, though he did his best to act normal. He knew he probably ought to be surprised to find a princess in his home, but he supposed he was rather inured to royalty by then. What clutched at his heart was the mention of Noct. He swallowed and turned to spoon sugar into the assorted mugs laid out before him. “I’m not sure who told you such a thing, but–”
Aranea didn’t let him feign ignorance for long. “You can cut the act, Ignis,” she said, looking at him almost balefully. “There’s been a whole bunch of people looking for you ever since you disappeared five years ago.”
“Please believe that we are your allies,” Lady Lunafreya pleaded. “The Tenebraen royal family is in full support of the remaining government of Lucis. In the years since Insomnia’s fall, we’ve done everything we can to help aid your country and its people.”
“How very altruistic,” Ignis said with a scoff. No government ever did anything that wouldn’t benefit them somehow, he well knew, so there had to be something in it for Tenebrae. Perhaps they saw this as an opportunity to gain their own foothold in Lucis. “However, we’re getting along just fine here. We need no assistance from Tenebrae or anyone else.”
The look that Lunafreya gave the tiny room was just shy of pitying, as if she felt bad that such a meager home even existed, but knew better than to express that to its inhabitants. “Be that as it may, locating the prince is our highest priority. In fact, it is we that need his help.”
Ignis bristled, and even from the distance he could feel Gladio doing the same. “And what could anyone need of a child?” he asked, turning his full attention on the princess. “What help could the great nation of Tenebrae want from a young boy who can scarcely tie his shoe laces?” It had been long enough that Ignis had stopped dreading this moment, but he had always hated knowing that some day someone would come for them, to take Noct and try to turn him into a figurehead. “I can only imagine what your people have planned for him. I don’t doubt he would be put on a golden pedestal and taken down only when someone had need of him, as a puppet or pawn, as if he were a thing and not a child.”
The princess appeared taken aback by his outburst, but she bore it with great patience. She took a moment to compose herself, and then replied. “Yes, I admit, you aren’t entirely incorrect. There are many in both the Tenebraen and Lucian governments who would see the prince put forth as a political tool. And there are just as many who desire to have him trained to take his place as king honestly. This is the primary concern of your Crownsguard, as I understand.”
Ignis realized that she hadn’t brought any Crownsguard with her, even though there were certainly quite a few who surely desired to see Noct with their own eyes again, after five years or more. If things had gone as they’d planned (not counting their own impromptu departure), the ‘guard should have largely migrated to the Tenebraen embassy. If no one else, Cor was supposed to have been there, and Ignis could hardly imagine that he’d decided not to care about Noct’s whereabouts.
“However,” Lunafreya continued, unaware of Ignis’ assumptions and calculations, “I’m concerned with something much more important than mere politics.”
An echoing creak from the hallway caught everyone’s attention, and all eyes swiveled to Noct, where he stood looking nervous, Prompto peeking out from behind him.
“Is… everything okay?” he asked, timid but looking like he might throw hands at these strangers if they were bothering his father. Ignis realized Noct had probably heard his raised voice and gotten worried. Although Ignis’ little tirade was nowhere near a shout, he supposed it had been notably louder than he usually spoke, especially inside. He was always very measured, particularly around the kids, who had never heard either of their parents yell in anger, except, perhaps very rarely, at some idiot out in the town.
Of the lot of them, Aranea was apparently the quickest. She jumped up from the couch and trotted up to the boys with her usual friendly grin. “Hey, kids. Everything’s fine here, don’t worry. It’s just some boring grown-up business. Actually, I think I’d rather sit it out too. I heard you guys got a new room. Wanna show me?”
She cast a glance back over her shoulder at Gladio as the boys led her off excitedly, and Ignis imagined it was saying something along the lines of, ‘sorry about everything; I’ll handle the kids’. Gladio nodded in response, clearly grateful but probably not enough to let her off the hook for selling them out (and lying by omission, for however long she’d known their identities and failed to tell them).
Keeping her voice low, Lunafreya caught Ignis’ eye and asked, “Am I correct in assuming that you’ve not told Noctis who he is?”
“He knows who he is,” Ignis replied, careful not to let too much heat or ice into his voice again, lest he forget that little ears were listening. “As much as any small child knows themself. He has absolutely no need to know of his history. It would only put him in danger. Furthermore, he doesn’t need to be burdened by such a heavy title.”
“But it is his birthright,” Lunafreya said, her head tilted ever so slightly, as if she struggled to understand why Ignis would not want to give him such a thing.
Ignis scoffed, unable to hide his derision. “Yes, it’s his right to be smothered by impossible expectations of reuniting a fractured kingdom. How very nice that he is allowed that.”
If Lunafreya were callous and unempathetic, Ignis might have continued to fight her, to resist whatever she wanted, but unfortunately she seemed to understand, so Ignis was obliged to at least listen to her. “If it were simply the fate of one country, or even both of our countries, I would not be so adamant. But the power of the kings of Lucis is more than that of a protector of nations.” She took a deep breath, like she was drawing strength from deep within. “There is a tale… A prophecy, that tells of a curse that will fall upon our world, a darkness that will slowly become a night without end. It says that only the king of kings can defeat this curse and bring the light back to our world.”
Even knowing that the gods were real, and having seen proof that Noct could communicate with them in some small way, Ignis had always been a skeptic. Gods and spirits and the very real daemons that they sometimes fought were different from something as nebulous as curses and prophecies.
“And what has this fairytale got to do with Noctis?” he asked.
The princess carefully reined in her exasperation over Ignis’ disbelief and carried on with her tale. “We have reason to believe that he is the king of kings,” she told him, her shoulders back and head held high. “The curse is very real. Though small, the changes have already begun. The nights have grown longer. At this rate, endless night will fall, certainly within our lifetimes, and I believe it will be sooner than later.”
An uncomfortable silence fell while Lunafreya waited for Ignis to respond to something that was near impossible to even believe, let alone reply to. However skeptical he tended to be, there was a note of truth in the princess’s story. If her story was not entirely true, she at least feared that it was, enough that that fear could infect those around her. But it did make some sense. Ignis had always known there was some hidden secret to the power of the Lucian kings, something darker and more ethereal than mere ‘magic’. Was this what it was?
Gods, but it was heavier than he’d ever feared, an even greater responsibility than the one he’d spent years trying to shield Noct from already.
But it didn’t change anything.
“I think you’re forgetting one very vital thing,” he said, his expression unyielding, unsympathetic of Lunafreya’s plight, despite it apparently also being his own and everyone else’s. He lowered his voice. “Noct is six years old. The ‘king of kings’ he may be destined to become, but for now he is not even a prince. He’s just a child, learning to read and write and stand on his own two feet, and I would have it stay that way. Why do you think we’ve avoided the Crownsguard for so long? They don’t see him as a child. They didn’t believe he deserved a childhood.”
Lunafreya’s mouth fell open, revealing her perfect white teeth as they bit down briefly on her lip. She seemed to have many things to say, none of which agreed to air themselves. “I understand,” she finally said. “More than you would believe. My mother is… was the Oracle. I was raised with the knowledge that I would follow in her footsteps one day. That is what I travel to do now, and I will accept this role wholeheartedly. But there have been days when I wished I was afforded the kind of childhood you are trying to give to Noctis now.” She looked down at her hands, lost in thought for a moment, and then said, “I will do what I can, to let him have that.”
“He won’t have it in a palace or embassy,” Ignis said, still feeling so wound up that he might snap, so brittle that he might shatter. “Let me make this clear: you won’t be taking him back with you, not over my dead body.”
“I understand that,” Lunafreya said with a tiny laugh, her smile small but luminous. She shook her head, as if to reset her expression. “There will be pushback from your Crownsguard, and they will need to be told where you are. I cannot keep this information from them without risking our alliance. But, I will try to ensure that Noctis can remain here and in your care for the time being. You have my word.”
“And how long is that gonna be?” Gladio asked from the other side of the small room, where he lounged with half-performative nonchalance on the couch.
Lunafreya sighed. “Until he is needed,” she said. “If I am successful in my training as Oracle, I may be able to delay that day for some while.”
A bit of guilt finally came over Ignis. Lunafreya seemed genuine in her desire to help them, and she seemed primed to take a lot of responsibility onto herself, for the sake of a young boy she’d not really yet met. “I appreciate that,” he said to her, nodding. “What do you want us to do in the meantime?”
“Raise him well,” she said, with as much of a shrug as a princess could reasonably give. “I’ve heard from Aranea that you’re quite the dutiful parents, and that you treat him as your own. Continue giving him that childhood he deserves. We will establish more guards nearby; covert, of course, and they shouldn’t interfere with your lives at all. But… prepare yourself for the future, as it will come soon. One day we will need the king of Lucis to form a covenant with the gods and break the curse upon our world.”
The idea of little Noct doing something like that was unthinkable to Ignis, even as he remembered the glow of his infant eyes and the otherworldly feeling that had overcome Ignis at their sight. But all he could do for now was nod. “Well, then. I assume that means you don’t need to speak with him this evening? I certainly don’t mean to be rude, but we have something of a schedule to follow, mundane though it may be.”
“Certainly,” Lunafreya said, nodding. She stood from the table, understanding that she was being dismissed. “I would like to meet him when I can, but no, it need not be tonight.”
“Do you have some place to stay for the evening?” Ignis asked. “I would like to offer you accommodations, but as you can see we haven’t the room.”
The taciturn ‘glaive soldier spoke up as he followed Lunafreya’s lead. “Aranea’s secured us a place.”
Ignis nodded, glad that he didn’t have to cram the lot of them into his living room. “And will you be returning in the morning?”
“To Tenebrae?” Lunafreya asked. She shook her head. “Oh, no. Although this was one of our primary reasons for visiting Lucis, I do have other business here. My training requires extensive travel. We will likely be in town for several days…”
The way she trailed off made it clear that she hoped he might extend an invitation or other olive branch, so he didn’t delay. “Then perhaps you can return while the children are at school tomorrow, and we can speak more openly.”
“Of course,” Lunafreya said with a nod, taking the cue to head towards the door. “Tomorrow, then.”
At Ignis’ glance, Gladio retreated into the hallway to fetch Aranea back from her self-imposed babysitting duty. They returned a few moments later and she joined the group at the door. “We’ll have to catch up some time,” she said to Gladio, though her voice seemed uncertain. She knew she wasn’t likely to be as welcome as she’d been before, and it was clear as well that she didn’t blame them for the shift in their attitude. (Although, in Ignis’ estimation, she was still in better standing with them, collectively, than she’d been before she left on her journey. He’d held her in such low esteem that it would have been difficult to be much less liked.)
Gladio didn’t reply with much more than a grunt, but Ignis guessed that his ire wouldn’t last too long, as long as Aranea’s indiscretion didn’t end up endangering Noct.
In the doorway, Libertus turned to them and raised a hand in thought. “Hey, uh, we never got those teas. Think we could take ‘em to go?”
His ‘glaive companion’s shoulders fell in exasperation and he rolled his eyes. “Libertus, you’re a hog.”
Ignis chuckled under his breath and went to retrieve the mugs. “I haven’t any spares, so please bring them back tomorrow,” he said, handing them over.
“Hey, that’s no problem!” Libertus solved the issue by knocking back his cup, draining it in one long chug and then handing it back with a satisfied sigh. “Thanks, bud.”
His friends seemingly couldn’t resist his antics; they all followed suit, with varying levels of enthusiasm and practice. It was comical to see the dainty princess work at finishing the drink quickly, but she seemed pleased when her companions’ faces broke into friendly smirks. Ignis could imagine scenes like this happening regularly as they traveled, the three rough soldiers sanding down the princess’s prim and proper edges, the four of them laughing around a campfire, despite the seriousness of their mission.
They handed back their mugs, Lunafreya with a mild air of embarrassment, and waved goodbye. Ignis shut the door behind them and then released a sigh he’d been holding onto for what felt like a very long time, although their whole meeting hadn’t been more than half of an hour at most. He looked at Gladio for a long moment, before Gladio cleared the space between them and collapsed around him in a hug that felt as exhausted as Ignis.
“You alright?” he asked, after a long moment of quiet comfort.
“I… must be,” Ignis replied, letting his head rest heavily on Gladio’s shoulder. “After all, I’m not… entirely surprised. We knew something like this was bound to happen at some point.”
“Yeah, but not… like this.”
“No,” Ignis agreed. “I imagine you were shocked to find Aranea involved in this plot.”
Gladio laughed wryly. “Yeah, but that’s barely the tip of the iceberg. Endless darkness? Iggy, I mean, you heard what she said. And Noct’s the one who’s supposed to break this curse? By… forming a covenant with the gods? What the hell did we get ourselves into?”
Ignis leaned back and looked up into Gladio’s eyes, one brow raised faintly. “And you believe all of that?”
“Do I believe the next Oracle? Yeah, Iggy. If there’s anyone who knows about gods and shit, it’s them.”
“But…” Ignis frowned, deflating. “It’s rather farfetched, isn’t it?”
Gladio’s look was gentle. It was pitying, sad, and a little scared. Ignis hated and loved to see it, all at once. “Is it? We’ve seen how much daemon activity has increased since Regis’ death. I’ve fought more of ‘em in the past few years than Roth’s ever seen in his whole life. It’s… kind of like they know something, like they can feel something’s changed and it’s making ‘em bolder.”
There was nothing Ignis could say against that. It was true, the daemons’ behavior had changed. The older hunters were always complaining about it, as were the older outlanders, who had never feared the dark quite the way they had to now. But that didn’t mean… There could be any number of reasons for that. Couldn’t there?
“...We should see how the children are doing,” Ignis said, pushing away from Gladio with a sad smile.
Up in their room, the boys were rebuilding their perpetual blanket fort, which they’d modified to fit Aranea. Noct looked up when Ignis peeked up through the hatch. “Are your business people gone?”
“For now,” Ignis said, knowing that they might end up being in Noct’s life to some degree.
“Did you figure out your business stuff?” Prompto asked, his wide blue eyes looking equal parts nervous and curious. Ignis couldn’t blame him. It was an unusual situation.
Ignis nodded. “Well enough, for the time being. I imagine we’ll speak on the matter again in the future, but for now everything is… fine.”
Noct disentangled himself from his mess of blankets and came up to wrap his arms around Ignis’ shoulders. He didn’t say anything, but it was comforting just to have him there, his heart resting near Ignis’ ear, beating steadily.
Once the kids were in bed, he and Gladio collapsed into their own, wearier than normal. Quietly they turned into each other and laid there, arms wrapped around each other, absorbing the easy closeness and warmth that Ignis had denied them for so long. “Thank you for being here, Gladio,” Ignis whispered into his stubbled cheek. “I don’t know what to expect of all this, but I know I couldn’t do it without you.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, babe,” Gladio replied, the rumble of his voice comforting in the close-drawn darkness. “You can handle anything life throws at you. But I’ll be here, even if you don’t need me.”
Ignis let the silence linger for a moment, then, nearly on accident, he found himself saying, “And what about when Noct no longer needs you? The time may one day come, when he is a king in his own right, when he no longer needs us to protect him. When he commands the power of gods, and we mere mortals can no longer compare?”
“Then I’ll definitely be here,” Gladio replied, pecking Ignis on the lips and then resting their cheeks together. “You’ll need someone to look after. Besides, if we’re not busy with the kids, maybe we can spend the time making up for all those missed opportunities.” He wedged his knee between Ignis’ legs, playful rather than insistent.
“Incorrigible,” Ignis said with a laugh. “I thought we were making good progress already.”
Gladio’s chuckle was warm in a different way. “Oh, you don’t know how many opportunities you’ve missed. Remember when I kept inviting you to go camping, back when we worked at the citadel? And you were busy studying for all those certifications you don’t even use?”
Ignis pushed back so he could fix Gladio with an intense stare. ”No,” he said, the simple, comically-painful syllable laced with disbelief. “Back then? You couldn’t have.”
“What? Couldn’t have had the biggest crush on my intense, sexy sparring partner?” Gladio grinned. “Guess you really do need those glasses.”
“Sexy?” Ignis scoffed, though he was grinning too. “Please, Gladio, I was fifteen. I was anything but sexy.”
“Fourteen, actually,” Gladio countered. “But so was I. And believe me, you were sexy. Even with the bowl cut.”
Ignis nearly choked on a laugh. “It was not a bowl cut,” he said, faux-indignant.
“Hey, it’s okay, Iggy,” Gladio said, ruffling his hair. “I said it was sexy.”
Their once-serious conversation devolved into teasing and silly banter, and Ignis couldn’t complain. Tomorrow hung over his head, while the further future loomed in the distance, but he was unspeakably relieved to have Gladio beside him as they approached. Whatever was to happen, he thought he could handle it, as long as Gladio’s hand was in his.
Chapter Text
The princess and her group showed up right on time, arriving at the door to the Scientia household not long after the kids were safely inside the schoolhouse. The four of them were wearing plainclothes, and they’d left their cloaks wherever they were staying for the duration of their visit, though all but Lunafreya were still visibly armed.
“Welcome in,” Ignis said, opening the door for them with far less hesitation than the previous night. “Tea? Or perhaps you’d like breakfast?” He looked to Libertus for the answer, figuring that if anyone was going to take him up on the offer of food or drink, it would be him.
“‘preciate it,” Libertus replied, “but we’re going out. Aranea’s gonna show us around.”
She shrugged. “Thought we might do a little hunting to work up an appetite before lunch.” She turned to Gladio with a carefully neutral friendliness. “Wanna tag along?”
Gladio glanced up at Ignis from the couch, where he was lacing up his boots. Ignis had expected that they’d both be there to hear the more intricate details Lunafreya had left out the previous night, but then he’d expected that her entourage would be crammed in there with them too. If the others were going out for some exercise, maybe it made sense for Gladio to do the same. He could even chat with them in a more casual environment, where they might open up more, hunter to hunter. He nodded, so Gladio stood up and went for his sword.
“Sure. I could do with the fresh air.” He turned to Ignis and tilted his head. “You two gonna be alright on your own?”
Ignis waved him off. “We’ll be fine, unless another griffon comes through, in which case I leave it to the lot of you.”
Aranea hummed in curiosity, sensing a story. “Fought a rabid griffon couple weeks back,” Gladio explained, ushering her and the other two out the door. “It was pretty badass. I’d say you should’a been there, but, uh, well, it’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it on the road.” He waved goodbye to Ignis, throwing him a proud grin before shutting the door between them, leaving him alone with Lunafreya.
The lovely princess stood with her hands clasped before her, seemingly searching for a way to break into what was bound to be less than a pleasant conversation. Eventually she took a breath and said, “You… fought a griffon?”
It was as good a place to start as any, Ignis supposed. He huffed a tiny laugh at the awkward icebreaker and went to make them some tea (there was a coffee shortage lately and he’d already had a cup that day). “A few weeks ago, yes. It was a… harrowing experience, but we bonded over it, Gladio and I.”
“Are the two of you close?” she asked, clearly a segue into what she really wanted to know: what kind of people were raising Lucis’ hidden prince?
“Quite,” Ignis replied with a private smile, wondering if she would take it the Lucian way or the Tenebraen way. But they were here to be honest with each other, so he clarified with more detail. “We were introduced to each other before Noct’s birth, as the future heir’s eventual retainers, and we’ve been lucky to get along quite well in the years since. I imagine you’re aware that we had posed as spouses to conceal Noct’s identity?”
“Yes, the Crownsguard network and their allies were all informed, in the hopes that someone could find you.” She took a seat at the tiny kitchen table, careful to draw out the chair without scraping it on the floor. A tentative smile crept up into her cheeks. “Though Aranea tells me there’s more to your relationship than a simple act?”
Of course, Ignis thought. Knowing now that the woman was a spy, it didn’t surprise him that she could see past the several layers of deception. And it made sense now, too, that she had taken such obvious note of Ignis’ burning jealousy. “She’s right,” he said with a soft huff, annoyed to have been seen through so readily, but ultimately too pleased with the outcome to be upset. “Our relationship has never been simple; it couldn’t be, with everything we had to go through to get here. But it has become simpler in recent days.” He turned and set down a mug and steeping tea bag in front of her, and a little pot of sugar beside it. “We had a talk. As it turned out, we had both underestimated the strength of our devotion to one another.”
“And you’re together now?” Lunafreya asked, with just the slightest pause before the word together, as if she had deliberated between it and another word.
“Yes,” Ignis told her. He grabbed his mug and joined her at the table, slightly less careful about scraping the legs of his chair. “Although I don’t believe that Noct has noticed a difference. To his knowledge, we are and have always been just what we’ve portrayed ourselves as. I will say it is a relief to have one less secret to keep from him, although I’m not interested in revealing the others to him just yet.”
Lunafreya sipped at her tea. “Yes, it would be difficult to keep him safe with that knowledge, living in such a place. He would need to be moved somewhere more secure, if his identity were to become known. I am told that Meldacio has repelled Imperial attacks before, but I do not think the Empire would be so easily dissuaded, if they knew what was hidden here.”
“Then you understand why I want to remain discreet.”
“I do,” Lunafreya replied. She looked around the small room, out the gap in the single window’s curtains. “Does he have… fun?”
“More than necessary, sometimes,” Ignis said, chuckling at the memory of some of the nonsense Noct had gotten up to during their years at Meldacio. “We go camping out at the Vesperpool occasionally. Other than that he has school, friends. One particular best friend, Prompto, a little orphaned boy we haven’t officially adopted. They’re very close; like brothers, I imagine. I never had any siblings, personally.” He took a drink. “Yourself, Princess? I seem to recall the royal family of Tenebrae having two children?”
“I have a brother, Ravus. And please, call me Luna. I do not wish for you to think me simply a member of a political faction, someone whose schemes you must be wary of.”
A laugh bubbled up out of Ignis, disturbing the surface of his tea. “Do I really seem so paranoid?”
Luna shook her head. “No more than I would expect,” she said. “You were to be Noctis’ political advisor, were you not? A certain level of caution is understandable.”
“I appreciate that,” Ignis said, glad that she didn’t begrudge him his wariness. “But, to be completely honest, my concern about Noct’s well-being is… of a parental sort. Many days I find I haven’t thought of him as a prince once. I’ve acted the part of his father so long now that you’d be hard-pressed to remove me. I do truly think of him as my own. If I were still able to see him as the future king, this situation might be easier.”
“I’m sorry. I can only imagine,” Luna said, her voice full of compassion. “Would that I could release him from his future duties.” There was no ‘but’ or ‘if’ to bring the comment more in line with her known stance, and Ignis was glad that she was able to leave it at that. But he knew that even if they left the details unspoken, those details would still be there, simply unknown, and no less dangerous for his ignorance.
“So tell me of these duties. What exactly will be expected of Noct, when the time comes for him to take on this task?”
Looking down at the table between them, Luna took a moment to collect her thoughts. “I… would like to tell you that I understood it completely. Unfortunately, prophecies are not often as clear as we would like them to be. This is an old prophecy, based on an even older tale of betrayal among the gods, many eons ago.”
“Betrayal,” Ignis repeated, thinking back to the stories of Eos’ creation, and the beginning of the era of men. “You mean the tale of Ifrit?” Pieces began to arrange themselves in his mind as Luna nodded. “His anger towards the humans he had once patronized is said to be the cause of the War of the Astrals, after which the nations as we know them were founded through covenant with Bahamut. This… curse is related to that tale, somehow?”
“We believe so,” Luna confirmed. “Some think it was Ifrit’s final curse upon the world. Others believe it has more mundane origins. Regardless, it has been seen throughout history as a plague which only the Oracle could cure.”
Ignis frowned, seeing a hole in Lunafreya’s story. “Then what need do you have for Noct, if the Oracle can handle it?”
Sadness, perhaps resignation, came over Luna’s face. “It has always been the Oracle’s lot to hold back the Starscourge, but there is only so much that she can do. My mother… She worked tirelessly to stem the tide, but she was overcome. After King Regis’ death, the plague began to spread as it had not in centuries. Many towns in the Imperial countryside have been decimated. I am doing everything in my power to take up my mother’s position as quickly as possible, but I can already feel the weight that broke her. It grows heavier by the day.”
There was so little that Ignis could say to such an admission that he said nothing. Any apologies or thanks would sound like platitudes at best. “So what can Noct do to alleviate this …'Starscourge'?”
Luna took a deep breath and nodded, ready to move on from her own pain. “To our understanding, it is the Crystal of Lucis that kept the curse from overwhelming Eos, these many years. When Regis died, his magic no longer powered the Crystal.”
“Then if Noct can power the Crystal, things should return to normal?”
“...Yes,” Luna said, although it sounded nothing like an affirmation. “...For a time. But his power alone will not be enough to sustain it. The time will come that he will have to gather the power of past kings and offer that power to the Crystal.”
Something didn’t add up. The story refused to lie flat in Ignis’ mind, a tapestry laying rucked and wrinkled. “Why do you believe it will be Noct to gather this power? Why not his children? It could be any of the line of Lucis, correct?”
Looking uncomfortable, Luna folded her hands in front of her. “The line of Oracles has been gifted with the ability to speak with the gods via their messengers. I have received these messages from time to time. Some have been clear; others only hints as to what I must do. That is to say… I was told by the gods.”
“Ah,” Ignis said. It sounded so definite that for a moment he could not even conceive of combating it. But his desperation to keep Noct safe fueled a creative denial in him. “But, you can’t be sure? Perhaps you’ve misinterpreted this hint.”
Pityingly, Luna shook her head. “‘The hidden prince, twice named but never spoken, born in the house of crystal, now protected by flower and flame.’” A hint of amusement showed on her face. “I had briefly thought this might indicate that the prince was to be found near the rock of Ravatogh, but fortunately he was found somewhere more accessible. The flower and flame. Gladiolus and Ignis.”
“That is… fairly indisputable then,” Ignis admitted, feeling a bit exposed to have been spoken of by a messenger of the gods.
“Yes, I believe the other phrases speak for themselves,” Luna said, “at least to those who know.”
A light grimace came over Ignis’ face. “I can only hope the wrong people don’t figure it out.” He thought maybe they should have changed their names entirely after all, as much as he didn’t like the thought of living even more of a lie than they’d been doing. It was too late to bother, though, so he didn’t bemoan the situation to Luna.
“We have some intelligence about the Empire’s data,” Luna told him, “but not enough to say if they know of you two, I’m sorry. However, we’ve already sent word back to Tenebrae, and there are guards enroute to keep watch of the area. Discreetly, of course. I hope that will provide some measure of relief.”
“I can’t say I like the idea,” Ignis said with a sigh, imagining eyes on the back of his head while he was shopping at the market. He didn’t think it would relieve his anxiety about the situation as much as Luna was imagining. Still, it was for Noct’s safety, and he couldn’t begrudge that. “I appreciate it, though. I know it could be worse.”
Luna nodded, and then asked something he hadn’t quite been expecting. “Do you not care for the Crownsguard?”
Did he not? It was a difficult question to even consider. He couldn’t rightly say that yes he disliked them, because most of the Crownsguard members he’d met were good, loyal people, and of course the organization (if you could call it that) was well-intentioned and generally aligned with his values. He’d been proud to be part of the Crownsguard when he was fourteen and training to be the king’s right hand. But everything had changed when he’d found himself carrying the infant prince across miles of wilderness, clutching him to his chest all the while, fearful that the little child might be taken from him. The others just didn’t understand that. They couldn’t. And he didn’t think that had changed in the past five years.
Taking a deep breath, Ignis tried to explain. Whatever the Crownsguard as a whole felt about Noct, he thought Lunafreya might understand his position at least a little. “Time has changed the way I view the Crownsguard’s values, and my own. I would like to think that we’ll always be allies, but such a relationship will only work out if they can respect the choices that Gladio and I have made regarding Noct’s upbringing. I suppose… I’m afraid they might not, even with the backing of the Oracle.”
Luna smiled to hear the title she was working towards. “I hope that my guidance helps them consider their priorities, but I believe you’re underestimating your own power. Aranea’s was not the only word I had before I came here. I’ve spoken to the Crownsguard at length, and many of them have a lot of respect for you and your decisions.”
Frowning, Ignis said, “You made it sound as if they were champing at the bit to relieve us of Noct.”
“That may be,” Luna said, with a soft tilt of her head, “but not out of a mistrust of you or your abilities. I think they worry for the prince’s safety as much as you do, but without being in a position to do anything for him. Of course they want him nearer, but I do believe they’ll defer to your decision to keep him hidden here… if you speak to them.”
The advice sunk slowly and quietly into Ignis’ head as Luna sipped on her tea. Should they not have cut off the rest of the Crownsguard? Had it been too hasty a decision? Too immature? It was strange to think back on that time and realize that he and Gladio had been children, making choices that would impact their whole kingdom.
…Choices that might impact their whole world, if what Luna said was true.
Noct really was that important, wasn’t he? Not just to he and Gladio, not just as an individual. He was important: royally, cosmically. It wasn’t fair, but then was nearly any of this? Was it fair that he’d lost both his parents at a young age? That he’d spent his whole childhood thus far in a shack? Was it fair that Ignis had spent five years on edge, waiting for something terrible to happen?
Maybe… maybe it made sense for Noct to live somewhere safer. Ignis was sure he’d have everything he needed or wanted at the palace in Tenebrae, more servants to wait on him than he could ever use. He could have the charmed life he'd been born into.
Ignis sighed, something he’d found himself doing quite a lot these past few days, after several weeks of unprecedented contentment. Well, he’d known that blissful honeymoon period could only last so long.
Would Noct want to be a prince? Maybe he’d find it fun for a while, getting everything he wanted served up to him without complaint, but Ignis knew him better than just about anyone; the boy would be uncomfortable with the inevitable attention. He was perfectly happy to be the center of attention in small groups of his choosing. He came out of his shell when he was safe at home or out on a fishing trip, but he never spoke up in his classes and he didn’t like talking to people out about town. Having so many eyes on him, even if it was only the Crownsguard and the occasional Tenebraen dignitary, would be like a nightmare to him, and it would hurt Ignis just as badly to see him suffer.
He didn’t tell Luna that he’d second-guessed his decision; the canny young woman could probably tell. He wound back his thoughts to what they’d last been talking about: her opinion that Ignis should speak with the Crownsguard. “May I ask who you’ve spoken to? I presume some of the Crownsguard are in Tenebrae?”
Luna nodded. “Yes, some of the Crownsguard have set up permanently at the embassy, as well as some officials who managed to escape the city.” (Ignis hummed, and hoped it was not too clear the disdain he had for the idea of dealing with ‘officials’, which he assumed meant bureaucrats.) “He doesn’t tend to stay for long, but Cor Leonis returns to the city often, and I’ve spoken to him quite a few times. He’s never described himself as such, but the others seem to consider him their leader. In his absence, Dustin Ackers handles logistics. I would say he is who I’m most familiar with.”
“I suppose I should write to Dustin then,” Ignis said, as much to himself as to Luna. He started mentally composing a number of possible letters, unsure what to say after all this time, especially after his less than orthodox departure from the group. But he stopped his planning and returned his attention to the princess; it was rude to ignore a guest, even one who’d initially invited themselves in.
“He would appreciate that,” she told him with a soft smile.
The conversation fell into another quiet lull then, while they finished their drinks and listened to the bustle of the town just outside of the makeshift home’s thin walls. Ignis thought he probably ought to ask for more clarity about the tasks Noct would have to one day undertake, but he imagined that if Lunafreya had a very definitive answer then she’d have already offered it. Anyway, it wasn’t likely to be relevant just yet, and Ignis was fairly sure that they’d be in contact with the Oracle again before the prophecy came for its dues. The details were less important now than the outcome: that the Scientia family would be at least distantly reunited with its estranged relatives, but Noct would remain just where he was, allowed to live in peace for a while if not indefinitely.
When he dragged himself out of his thoughts, Ignis saw that Lunafreya was looking curiously about what she could see of the house from where she sat. “Would you like a tour?” Ignis asked, not sarcastic but with an edge of humor.
Luna seemed mildly apologetic to be caught looking, as if there was anything wrong with it. “Oh, thank you,” she said, though it wasn’t a yes. “I didn’t mean to intrude upon your privacy. This is just the only place I could be reasonably sure we wouldn’t be overheard.”
“It’s no problem,” Ignis told her. “Rather, compared to keeping Noct’s identity safe, having the Princess of Tenebrae inspect my home is of very little consequence. And I think I can confidently say that you rank among our few friends now, so what’s ours is yours, within reason.”
A shy smile worked its way onto Luna’s face. “Then… may I?” she asked shyly. “I still haven’t had the opportunity to see how many of the Insomnian refugees are living. In the absence of other leadership, it’s my responsibility to be aware of the needs of the people.”
Ignis laughed softly as he stood up from the kitchen table. “It may not be my place to advise a princess, but I won’t tell anyone if you’d rather simply be curious than claim responsibility over every living thing.”
Again Luna seemed caught; she bit her lip against a smile, and nodded as she stood elegantly. “Then, if you would indulge my curiosity, please.”
More than happy to, Ignis led Luna on possibly the shortest tour of a home that a princess had ever received. At one end of the hallway, he gestured into the room that had slept the whole family until quite recently. “The bedroom,” he said with a sweeping motion of his hand. “I’m told the bed is of above-average size among the townsfolk. It was gifted to us by the town’s mayor in thanks for Gladio’s work defending the town from daemons. Before that, the three of us crowded into a much smaller one. I daresay the larger bed allowed Prompto to adopt himself into the family.”
“Did he?” Luna asked, smiling.
“Adopt himself?” Ignis chuckled. “More or less. We’ve not officially adopted him, even by the lax standards of a land with no functioning government. But he spends ninety-nine percent of his time attached to Noct’s side. The last one percent is bathroom breaks.” He nodded for her to follow him to the other side of the hall, where he climbed up the ladder and into the boys’ loft. He picked up as much mess as he could in the ten seconds it took for Luna to follow him up.
Luna seemed charmed by just the idea of Prompto, and by the little room he clearly shared with Noctis, the clutter strewn between the two kid-sized beds evidence of more than one rowdy child. “Why haven’t you?” she asked Ignis, and he noted that she didn’t add ‘if I may ask’ or anything to pad what might be considered a rude question. He was glad she was losing some of that rigidity. Maybe it was impossible to be entirely proper in a house made of shipping containers.
Ignis thought for a moment about how to explain it. “I’ve thought about it,” he admitted, his smile just a touch rueful. “I’ve surprised myself a bit to find that I care about Prompto as much as I do, but it isn’t as much as he deserves, and it never could be. Noct must always be my first priority.” He sat down on the bed he was fairly sure was Prompto’s, idly smoothing some of the blankets down. “Gladio understands that, which is the only reason we can indulge in a relationship. If it ever came down to a choice between the two of them, Gladio would not begrudge my choosing Noct. But I can’t expect Prompto to accept that his parents would always prioritize his brother over him, so it’s better that he not see us that way. It will be less painful in the end.”
“I see,” Luna said, returning his sad smile. Ignis got the feeling that she had some thoughts about his explanation that she wasn’t airing, but she kept them to herself and sat in comfortable silence while he tidied up a bit more.
“Well, there you have it,” he said, once they’d returned to the front room. “Not quite a palace fit for a king, but it’s done the job.”
“It seems well-loved,” she replied, which was a diplomatic thing to say, though Ignis didn’t get the feeling that she was giving lip service. The princess appeared to be a sincere person, though not without humor. He appreciated that about her.
There was little else to do in the house, and with their companions still likely to be out hunting for a while, Ignis suggested that perhaps Lunafreya would like to see the rest of the town. “It’s no Lestallum, but Meldacio has its points of interest.”
“I’d be glad to,” Luna said with a nod, following him out into the town. “I’ve seen very little of any of the towns in Lucis yet. We traveled most of each day to get here, and arrived only a little before dark last night.”
“I doubt Meldacio is a shining example of Lucian culture and architecture,” Ignis said wryly, “but I’m led to believe that it’s a ‘shining jewel’ among the settlements that have popped up since Insomnia’s fall. We’ve even got a laundromat, if you can believe it.”
The ‘inner city’, clustered together under the great stone arches that had once protected the entirety of Meldacio when it was just a hunter’s outpost, now made up less than a tenth of the town, but it still housed some of their most important buildings, not least of which were the primary school (the secondary school classes were in the process of moving to a new building in the outer city), the bathhouse (which had a spa now, evolved slightly from the motley collection of bathtubs and toilets it had once been), and the general-store-turned-post-office. Ignis told Luna about some of their day-to-day, regaling her with thrilling tales of his various part-time jobs. To his mild surprise, she appeared interested in the minutiae, and not at all condescending about the fact that Ignis had occasionally scrubbed soap scum off of shower tiles for a few extra gil. (He didn’t tell her that he’d done it more to keep busy than for the pay; he wasn’t sure if that would paint him in a more or less indigent light, not that he especially cared.)
Out under the late-morning sun, they continued their tour by strolling through the shops quarter, where small businesses had begun to thrive and sometimes aspire towards medium-sized business.
“I believe that is Gladio’s tattooist,” Ignis said, nodding over to a little building where a faint buzzing could be heard. Ink drawings covered what could be seen of the walls through the open front door.
Luna simply said, “Oh!”, looking a little nervous about the idea, which Ignis thought was probably the normal reaction when faced with being stabbed repeatedly by tiny needles. He wasn’t particularly squeamish about the idea anymore, after he’d accompanied Gladio on a few trips to get his feathers shaded in, but he remembered shivering the first time he’d had to watch the artist wipe away what had seemed like far too much blood. That was before he’d started hunting with Gladio, and long before the griffon; he didn’t think anything less than a gallon could phase him anymore.
A little further out was a block of newer buildings: townhouses and small apartments that resembled homes one might have found in a real city, and (as far as Ignis knew) built to some sort of code more strenuous than ‘keeps the rain off your head’. “These are some of the newest homes,” he told Luna, as they watched people stream in and out. “They’re reportedly much nicer than the older places, including ours. The city offered us one, but we preferred to keep what we have. It’s closer to the school and the hunt board, and we’ve grown attached to it.” He didn’t bother mentioning that it was also safer, underneath the arches and farther from the dangers of the wilderness; he didn’t want to point out these houses’ flaws under the watchful ear of their residents.
Along the outskirts, they visited two of the town’s nicer destinations: the chocobo stables and paddocks, and the new park that sat behind it. Ignis called for Priscilla as they approached the outer field, where the chocobos who were allowed to come and go sometimes lingered. She didn’t come running, so Ignis could only assume she was out living whatever secret life she had outside of being their pet. He and Luna meandered along the fence, gazing at the other birds and sometimes petting the friendlier ones who approached them for attention.
“Tenebrae is too mountainous to travel by chocobo,” Luna said, gently scratching her fingers through the downy feathers on a bird’s face. “They’re amazing creatures.”
“I’m inclined to think so,” Ignis agreed, and he told her the story of Priscilla’s role in their daring escape from Lestallum, a tale she confirmed was barely more than wild rumor among the Crownsguard.
They were walking through the park a little further along the way, both appreciating the power of a bit of organized nature for making a place feel civilized, when a thought flitted across Ignis’ mind that made him laugh. “It’s nothing important,” he told Luna when she tilted her head at him curiously. He smiled, a bit embarrassed and yet pleased at how absurd the situation was. “It occurred to me that we might seem like a young couple, strolling about on a day like this. Not long ago, I’d have been very conscious of something like this, of how it might appear to others. Before Gladio and I spoke to each other, I was consumed by the thought that he and Aranea were an item, that others would see their affair and it would cast doubt on the story we’d crafted about our identities.”
“And that no longer worries you?” Luna asked, not retreating to less personal distance. She could see that Ignis was not uncomfortable with their friendly proximity.
“Apparently not,” Ignis replied with a chuckle. “I suppose it was never entirely about our facade. Once I knew for sure that Gladio harbored no feelings towards Aranea, the anxiety fled me as if it had never existed. Perhaps I should still care what others might think, but I can’t bring myself to be as concerned as I once was.” He considered Lunafreya, who was at least as beautiful as Aranea, slimmer but with a poise and elegance surely not easily matched. She was quiet and calm in contrast to Aranea’s striking boldness, and in many ways she matched Ignis just like their hunter companions suited each other. People certainly might look at the two of them together and assume they would find something appealing in each other, enough to lead them astray.
But it didn’t matter, because Ignis knew the truth of the matter, and his honest devotion for Gladio should be enough to persuade anyone who wasn’t literally blind. Perhaps people would gossip, but they would be toothless accusations at best.
Luna’s eyes crinkled, and her smile was warmer than the day. “I’m glad,” she said with a nod. “I know you have much to be concerned about already, without worrying that people could see you as disloyal.”
“They still may,” Ignis said with a shrug, “but it’s as you say: there are greater things to worry about, and greater things still to try not to worry about.”
The Oracle’s smile turned sympathetic at the mention of those greater things, the things she’d brought upon him. “Thank you again for listening,” she said with a soft sigh. “And for your kindness, despite my bearing such bad news.”
Ignis shook his head, having already taken strides towards accepting this new information. “It’s no fault of yours. Gladio and I are the odd ones out. It has always been Noct’s destiny to follow in his father’s footsteps. That I sometimes struggle to remember what that truly means is nobody’s blame but mine.”
“You really love him,” Luna said quietly, not at all a question, though not so bold as to be a statement.
“More than I ever thought possible,” Ignis told her. He wandered a little way down the dirt path carved through the park’s outer boundary, and gazed out into the wilderness that edged it. “I… never expected to be a father, you know. I don’t think most fourteen-year-olds expect to become parents exactly, but I knew from a young age that my life would be devoted to serving the crown. I expected not to marry, or ever have any relationships that might come between myself and my job. Sometimes I think… No, often I think that the fall of Insomnia was the luckiest thing that could have ever happened to me. It was an unspeakable tragedy, and yet it gave me everything I never knew I wanted.” He paused to let Luna draw up beside him and then admitted to her compassionate expression, “It may be cruel of me to even acknowledge that, but I can’t find it in me to feel guilty.”
She shook her head, understanding. “Guilt helps no one. It wouldn’t help Noctis become the man he is supposed to be.”
“No, and I know this,” Ignis said with a sigh. “Even so, it doesn’t hurt to have a friendly reminder from time to time.”
They finished their lap of the park in relative companionable silence, Ignis reflecting on their conversation and the weight that speaking openly to Lunafreya had lifted from his shoulders. He had long been the kind of person who kept his thoughts to himself, and even more so his feelings; he sometimes found it difficult to open up to Gladio, even now, and they were by all metrics each other’s closest friends. But it could not be overstated, the surprising effect of telling someone else about his worries, and knowing that they understood at least some of what weighed on him. And Luna was a good partner for it. She was someone he would have liked to be friends with, if such a thing were plausible. Speaking to her, he felt he finally really got what Gladio felt about Aranea, and he was glad that his amiable partner had something like that.
Although… It occurred to Ignis, along with a feeling of dread, that their friendship could have been exaggerated on Aranea’s part, just an aspect of her ploy to confirm their identities. Gods, he hoped that wasn’t the case, for Gladio’s sake. Ignis had been willing to let any number of ill fates befall her when he’d thought she might take Gladio away from him, but the thought that she might have been lying to him the whole time was almost equally repugnant.
“Are you close with Aranea?” he asked as they passed the paddock again and made towards the taphouse he was fairly certain they’d find their friends at. He knew the question sounded less than conversational, but he didn’t mind tipping his hand at Luna.
“Moreso recently,” she said after some thought. “She has worked with us several years, but our opportunities to speak had been few before we made this journey together. I might assume you know her better than I do.”
“I wonder,” Ignis said with a frown. “I was never very close to her myself, for reasons I’m sure you can surmise, but in recent years she’d become something like Gladio’s best friend, other than myself.”
Luna smiled reassuringly, the expression just touched with pity. “Oh, I see. I can make no guarantees, but I believe she is genuinely fond of your family, from the tales she’s told. It was her good word that allowed me to take this journey with such a small entourage; if she’d been less complimentary of you, we might be having a much different conversation.”
Ignis gave a huff of laughter at the unpleasant image of Lunafreya arriving at their door with a small army, ready to take Noct by force, based on Aranea’s word. He supposed it was a good thing he’d held his tongue as much as he did, if she’d held their fate in her hands like that. “I appreciate that she put in a good word for us,” he said, “but I wonder if her friendship with Gladio wasn’t exaggerated somewhat.”
“Aranea is as dedicated to our cause as you or I,” Luna told him. “She will do whatever it takes to see her job done. But she did not need to befriend you to discern the truth, and if the job was her only concern then I doubt she would have been so worried on our journey here. I shouldn’t speak for her, but I think she hoped very dearly that she would be forgiven for betraying your trust.”
It was only hearsay, but Ignis appreciated the princess’s view, and he hummed in thanks and consideration. He hoped it was true, but only Aranea could say for sure, and she probably wouldn’t say it to him. Hopefully she and Gladio would be better at hashing out their feelings together than he and Gladio had been for years.
Although the hunters weren’t there when Ignis and Luna arrived, they grabbed a table in the pub’s expanded courtyard and ordered drinks for themselves. “This is Aranea’s favorite alehouse,” Ignis explained, when Luna asked if he was sure they’d show up. He didn’t second-guess his decision, even after the realization that he might not know her as well as he thought. It would take an unusual amount of dedication to fake a bar preference, and what for?
The four of them did indeed show up not twenty minutes later, glistening with sweat, lightly blood-flecked, and looking invigorated. Ignis rose to meet Gladio with a chaste kiss, though Gladio seemed ready to chase after him as he withdrew, which Ignis could only assume meant he was in pretty high spirits. He squeezed Gladio’s hand as they sat close by one another, and muttered, “Have a good time, did you?” Gladio’s warm gaze was answer enough. Whether that meant he’d reconciled with Aranea or not, Ignis figured he’d find out later– possibly tomorrow, depending on how their evening went.
Between the four cool, stoic hunters, they managed to give a detailed account of their hunt: a couple of cockatrice that had wandered too far from their native Vesperpool, and their clutch of chickatrice too. Ignis wasn’t more invested in the details of this hunt than any other, but he listened with great interest as Gladio and his temporary companions added in their bits like cooks at a communal soup pot, each new ingredient forming a clearer picture of the final product, and telling something about the contributor in the process.
It was clear from their tale that Gladio had had a good time. He was in even more cheerful a mood than he normally managed, not exaggerated for the sake of the public or their company. Hunting was already among one of his favorite activities, and he always claimed that it was better with partners. Ignis didn’t know if the other two men were hunters, but they’d obviously been soldiers at one time, and Gladio had probably savored showing off and trading techniques with them. That Aranea was there as well probably bolstered his mood, regardless of any lingering stresses between them. He’d cared too much about her before to suddenly not enjoy her presence.
For her part, Aranea seemed relieved, as if a significant weight had come off her shoulders rather suddenly. She still seemed a bit bowed by the burden that had laid upon her before, not quite back to her smooth and self-assured persona. She and Gladio both looked younger than usual, and Ignis had to wonder for a moment if Aranea was faking her age as well (not that he’d ever asked how old she was supposed to be; he was given to believing that was a taboo subject for a lot of people).
Libertus was clearly excited about that ale Aranea had mentioned, and when the food and drinks came he looked so at peace that nobody would ever expect he was involved in political drama or that he held the oracle’s life in his callused hands. But he wasn’t just content to be in his own little world; he made a point of bolstering the others’ tales, bragging about their clever hits or artful dodges. He seemed especially proud of Gladio, though there was no telling if it was genuine fanboyish enthusiasm or if he just felt like propping up their youngest member a bit.
The final member of the quartet had been such a mystery to Ignis that he hadn’t even caught the man’s name until they’d all sat down to a meal. Nyx was finally coming out of his uptight ‘Glaive shell, and as Ignis watched him interact with the others he could see what made him a valuable part of the group. There was a familiar intensity to him; he gave the impression that he could be relied on. Ignis could see why Luna might have chosen him to accompany her, and why she looked to him with such trust.
He hoped these people, or people like them, would continue to be on their side when the time came for their own quest, whatever it might entail.
Lunch could run long when it was just Gladio and Aranea, but with the lot of them there was the real chance that it’d go on until dinner. Ignis had to get back to walk the kids home from school though, so he bid them all farewell.
Luna stood from her folding chair and smoothed her dress down. “May I come along?” she asked, a touch shyer than a princess had any reason to be, when she could have demanded the right to go just about anywhere.
“Of course,” Ignis said, with a nod he made sure not to let become a bow.
As they wound their way through the town, a flash of motion in Luna’s shadow started to catch Ignis’ eye. He thought after the first few times that he might just be seeing things; maybe he needed to get a new glasses prescription? But finally one of Luna’s little followers deigned to be seen.
“Miss Luna?” he said, catching her eye and glancing down at the mid-sized black dog trotting along beside her. “You seem to have attracted a friend.”
“Oh yes, this is Umbra,” Luna said with a smile, reaching down to pat it on the head. “He and his partner Pryna… accompany me from time to time. I believe they’re excited to meet Noctis as well.”
“Oh are they?” Ignis turned around and nearly tripped over another dog, similar in size and shape but a surprisingly clean white. “Well, it’s good to meet you,” he told the dog, fairly certain there was something special about the canines, something that warranted a level of respect.
Noct and Prompto were just exiting the schoolroom with their peers when they arrived, and though first they sought the familiarity of Ignis their eyes were quickly drawn to Luna, standing beside him, and then just as quickly to her pets. Ignis could see them perk up immediately.
”You’re about to be their new favorite,” Ignis said with a chuckle, as the kids hurried up to quickly greet Ignis and then pivot in Luna’s direction. They waited impatiently for an introduction, knowing better than to pet a strange dog, no matter how cute it was or how excitedly it wagged its tail.
Luna could see that all four were vibrating with anticipation, so she wasted no time in greeting the boys. “Hello. I am Luna, and these are Pryna and Umbra. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“I’m Noct,” and “My name’s Prompto!” the two replied on top of each other, bouncing where they stood. “Can we pet your dogs?”
“Please,” Luna said, charmed. “I think they would enjoy that.”
The next several minutes were spent avoiding the jealous stares of other kids and their parents, who luckily paid more attention to the dogs than their owner. (Although, just how incognito was Luna even trying to be? The Oracle was a respected person throughout Eos, even among Nifs, but the Empire surely didn’t approve of Tenebrae hosting the battered remnants of the Lucian government.) When finally the boys had had enough to take a break, Ignis shepherded them all home and into the house, which was just starting to seem too small. Noct and Prompto sat on opposite sides of the couch and motioned for the dogs to sit on their laps, and Luna to sit between them. As soon as they had their hands sunk deep in soft fur, their heads turned towards her; there were stars in their eyes, and questions tumbling out of their mouths.
“Where are you from?” “How do you know Iggy?” “Do you have any more pets?!” “Are you staying here?”
Their attention never wandered for a moment, as Luna told them an abbreviated version of her story: that she was on a journey to explore the various sacred sites in Lucis, and she stopped to meet Aranea’s friends.
Noctis wrinkled his nose in thought. “But I thought you and Iggy and Gladdy were doing business together,” he said, a little too keen for Ignis’ liking, though deep down he appreciated when Noct refused to have the wool pulled over his eyes. It was befitting of a prince, even if it was inconvenient to the adults around him.
Before Ignis could come up with an excuse, Luna forged on. “Yes, your fathers agreed to assist me on my quest.”
“What can they do?” Noct asked, as blunt as a six year old couldn’t help but be, unaware of how comically rude he might sound. (Anyway, Ignis wondered himself what help they could possibly be to the oracle.)
“I need strong warriors to protect me along the way,” Luna explained.
Prompto frowned at a flaw in Luna’s plan. “But what about Iggy?” he asked, and Ignis had to restrain a snort of equal parts amusement and offense. The absolute cheek.
Luna appeared to be holding back laughter as well. “Perhaps he will help me decode the mysteries I find there,” she told the boys, and she didn’t seem to be lying. It hadn’t been the plan before (or if it was then Luna had failed to mention it to Ignis), but it seemed they’d just made new plans to keep with their new narrative. Anyway, it did make some sense. If Luna discovered anything relevant to their looming prophecy, Ignis would need to know about it.
After the boys had satisfied their curiosity about her, Luna turned the questions on them. How were they doing at school?; what kind of hobbies did they have?; what were their favorite colors? The two of them were happy to talk about themselves, and she was happy to listen. Ignis noted that she gave as much attention to Prompto as she did to Noct. In fact, she seemed surprisingly taken with him, as did her little white dog, Pryna. They both gazed at him like he was something special, not moreso than Noct, but not at all less.
While the three of them talked, Ignis worked on dinner, enjoying the background chatter. He was glad he’d planned ahead and made enough to share, because the hunters returned just as he set the sauce to simmer. There was a moment where Nyx made a stoic attempt to refuse dinner, but Aranea and Libertus made themselves at home almost immediately, and with Luna already sandwiched comfortably between the two kids, Nyx couldn’t protest very strongly. He sat cross-legged on the floor with his allies, and nodded seriously to Ignis when he handed him a plate.
Nyx seemed to find it difficult to treat Noct like a normal child, alternately paying too much and too little attention to the boy, but Ignis didn’t think Noct noticed, as surrounded as he was by friendly new acquaintances and fluffy wagging tails. Libertus was cool at least, as relaxed as he’d been at the pub, and very complimentary of Ignis’ cooking. Aranea seemed happy just to be hanging out again, without the shadow of worry hanging over her. The looks she gave Ignis, however, were notably different from how she’d ever looked at him before, and he could only assume it was because Gladio had told her the truth about their relationship.
Luna appeared more comfortable than she’d been since they’d met, something the others seemed to take note of as well.
Eventually dinner ended and night began to settle over them. Whatever revelations they’d had recently, the kids still had to keep a regular schedule, and so they all said their goodnights and goodbyes.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Luna said with a deep nod.
“It was our pleasure,” Ignis replied, and they both knew that although he was exaggerating somewhat, and despite the not-entirely-pleasant circumstances, they’d found an ally in each other; perhaps even a friend.
“We’ll be in touch,” she told him, and nodded to Gladio as well, trusting that Ignis would explain anything the others hadn’t. To the kids she turned and smiled. “It was nice to meet you, Noct, Prompto. Perhaps you can write to me sometime.”
“We will!” they promised in unison, apparently excited for the homework. They even happily headed to bed after that, and Ignis could hear them chattering to each other about how cool Luna was, what they were going to write, and whether or not Ignis might let them get a dog.
As soon as everyone was gone, Gladio wrapped him in a big hug, too content to bear much resemblance to the one he’d given Ignis when they’d found themselves alone the night before. “Missed you all day,” he said, nuzzling into Ignis’ neck, breathing him in.
“Something wrong with your company?” Ignis asked jokingly, winding his fingers in Gladio’s long hair.
“Nah,” Gladio told him. He pulled back just far enough to speak normally, instead of whispering at Ignis’ jaw. “They’re good sorts. Once you get ‘im hunting or drinking, Nyx isn’t as big of a stick in the mud as he seems, and Libertus is fun but surprisingly cool under pressure. We probably woulda ended up training together, if we’d all stayed in the city.”
“And, how was Aranea?”
Gladio’s smile turned soft, almost a little embarrassed. “She’s good,” he answered. ”We’re good. It wasn’t hard to forgive her once I knew she was loyal to Lucis. Y’know, she used to be a Nif, but she didn’t like how they did things, defected to Tenebrae.”
“And you trust her?” Ignis asked, although he expected her beginning meant next to nothing to Gladio. He’d never cared that Ignis wasn’t from a noble family, and he didn’t judge the outlanders for it either.
“Yeah,” he said, sounding like he’d given it some thought, but not had to think too hard on it. “It’s not where you’re from that matters, but where you end up.”
It was a nice thought, fair and equitable and just the sort of thing the hunters liked to espouse. Unfortunately, Ignis knew that it didn’t apply to everyone. “That’s certainly true for most people, isn’t it,” he said quietly.
Gladio’s smile faded and his hand on Ignis’ shoulder became heavier. “Did you guys talk about Noct some more?”
Ignis shook his head. “I’ll tell you about it later. I didn’t mean to detract from your reunion with Aranea. Truly, I’m glad you’re on good terms again.”
“Me too,” Gladio said, his smile returning. “Oh yeah, by the way, she says, uh, ‘congratulations’. Smug as hell when I told her she was right about you being jealous. The guys got a chuckle out of it too. Not at your expense! I think they were mostly laughing at me for being such a dumbass, and for being so head over heels for you that I didn’t realize Aranea was hot.”
Ignis laughed heartily, catching himself off guard with a snort. “Oh, I don’t believe for a minute that you didn’t notice how attractive she was, regardless of how you felt about me.”
“Fine, I knew she was attractive,” Gladio admitted, rolling his eyes. “I just didn’t realize she was hot enough to make you jealous.”
“Gladio, I’d have been jealous of a goblin if I thought it’d caught your attention,” Ignis said, chuckling. It was nice to be able to admit that so casually now, after the jealousy had pained him for so long. He didn’t even mind that others found it amusing too. They might as well.
With a warm little growl, Gladio ducked back close to Ignis and said, “You know just what to say to a guy,” and grabbed him by the hand and tugged him towards bed. Ignis went happily. Overall he’d had a fine day, a bit of a breath of fresh air in a literal and metaphorical way. It felt right to bookend that with Gladio’s embrace, and the knowledge that he’d gained wasn’t so heavy that he felt guilty indulging in his partner. If nothing else it was good to know that there were others on the case, people whom they could rely on to keep the future from their doorstep for at least a while more.
Knowing and understanding the threats that faced them were among Ignis’ greatest desires, but knowing when not to worry was a skill he’d worked to teach himself the past years, and it was one he planned to use that night.
Chapter Text
Ignis did
not
let the kids have a dog when they were six. He didn’t let them have a dog when they were seven, and he didn’t give in to their begging when they were eight, and by the time they were nine they’d mostly stopped asking because he’d made them start taking care of Priscilla as part of their training.
A chocobo was not exactly like a dog, but at least it was both self-reliant and useful, and didn't live inside of their house. Ignis was not experienced at chocobo riding, so he signed the boys up for lessons. It was his first compromise when they started thinking about whether or not they ought to start training the boys in self-defense. At six years old, when they’d just begun to reunite with the Crownsguard, Ignis and Gladio discussed if they should start the kids in weapons training, but it just made Ignis too nervous. Even the idea of wooden training swords seemed like too much, when Noct could hardly carry a bowl of cereal without spilling it half the time, so Ignis began thinking of other ideas.
That was where Priscilla came in. Chocobo riding was a sort of defensive ability, wasn’t it? What better way to defend oneself than to escape from harm? It was a good compromise, and it seemed to make everyone happy, while they considered letting the kids maybe have weapons one day. The kids only had to ride Priscilla at that point; it wasn’t until a few years later that Ignis made them groom and feed and clean up after her. (And even that wasn’t as bad as it could have been, since she was a free-roaming bird.)
But before they had the responsibility of cleaning up after a large bird, their affinity for Luna’s messenger dogs made them want one of their own. Ignis thought it was probably rather that they wished they could keep Umbra and Pryna, but even at six they knew better than to hope for something like that, let alone ask for it. Anyway, they could have, at best, kidnapped Umbra for a little while, because he was the one who delivered letters back and forth to Lunafreya; Pryna apparently stayed by her side, which was a disappointment to Prompto, who’d really taken to her. Still, any dog was better than no dog, and Umbra was a very good boy. Prompto was still plenty happy when the black pup came to visit, and sometimes stay for a few hours before disappearing when they weren’t looking. It only took him doing that a few times before Ignis was convinced he wasn’t a normal dog. They’d secured the house quite well, after all, and he was by no means small enough to creep out through any cracks there might be (which there weren’t).
“But we only see him a couple times a month,” Noct complained, when Ignis suggested that Umbra was enough dog for their family. “We want a dog we can play with all the time!”
“Pets are a lot of hard work,” Ignis told him, shaking his head. “They don’t just come as well trained as Umbra. Miss Luna trained him very carefully to be that well-behaved.”
That might not have been true, but the kids didn’t know it, nor did they need to. Not that it dissuaded them anyhow. “We can do it!” Prompto insisted optimistically, and Ignis didn’t even bother arguing because he knew that if any theoretical pet they got ever received any training, it would probably be him putting in most of the work, and he had enough work training two little monkeys.
“Tell ya what,” Gladio said, causing the boys’ eyes to swivel over to him excitedly. “How ‘bout I bring you a saberclaw next time I find one on a hunt. They’re basically dogs.”
Gladio had obviously thought the boys were going to recoil from the suggestion, but instead Ignis had to deal with their begging for a feral monster dog for a week before Umbra showed up again and reminded them to ask for a fluffy puppy instead.
Ignis was actually surprised that the boys wrote to Luna as often as they did (and he was fairly certain it wasn't just so they could see Umbra), and it was even more shocking that Luna replied so quickly when she was so busy with her journeys. She usually wrote to Ignis as well, so he didn’t have to parse her conversations with the boys (which could be a little less than coherent) in order to figure out what she was up to that week. From Meldacio she and her entourage had headed west to the Vesperpool to investigate some ruins. She wrote to the boys about the swampy terrain and the creatures they encountered; to Ignis she wrote of the daemon activity and the encroaching darkness she could feel trying to gather in the gloom there, the scourge seemingly both attracted to and repelled by the dense spiritual power of the place.
Unfortunately she didn’t yet have any further explanations of Noct’s future responsibilities, not that Ignis had expected answers in so short a time. Still, it was good to hear from her then, and it was good to hear about her travels as she continued south toward Ravatogh. He didn’t worry for her, guarded by those three and apparently no slouch with a staff herself, but he liked the occasional reminder that she was fine and things were progressing smoothly, if not miraculously fast.
It was still on Ignis’ mind a lot more often than he would have liked it to be, the whole prophecy ordeal. It felt… unreal sometimes, even more than his old life did when he thought back on it. He found himself watching the darkness some nights, wondering if it was a sort of conscious thing. Was it coming earlier each night? It didn’t seem to be, other than when autumn came around and gave way to winter, but then the darkness bowed to spring’s sunny warmth as usual. There was still plenty of sunlight, and what darkness there was didn’t seem malevolent.
He tried not to dwell on it, and for the most part he was successful, if only because there were other things to think about. For example, their impending reunion with the Crownsguard. Ignis had written a letter to Dustin, which he hoped struck a very delicate balance between apologetic and confident. After such a long time and the reflection it had allowed him, Ignis felt sorry for the strife he and Gladio had likely put the Crownsguard through, but he also had to make it clear that he was not admitting fault and that he did not regret the decisions they’d made. He didn’t want there to be the slightest doubt in anyone’s mind that he would abscond with Noct at a moment’s notice if they tried anything or disrespected the authority over him that he and Gladio had created for themselves, whether it ever should have been theirs or not.
He received a letter back quite quickly (delivered by Umbra) that surprised him: it wasn’t as admonishing as he’d expected; it wasn’t admonishing at all. The Crownsguard leadership had been informed of their location some time ago, so they’d had the chance to calm down already, if any of them had been considering storming over to Meldacio and giving Noct’s parents a piece of their minds. But reading Dustin’s response, it sounded as if nobody had really begrudged them their decision to hide with Noct, at least not once the initial shock had worn off. In the time since, they’d apparently gotten used to the idea and accepted that Noct’s guardians had made the choice they thought best. Dustin thanked him for looking after Noct all this time, for taking on a responsibility that he could have easily handed off to someone else, and he sounded genuine about it.
The biggest thing that Ignis got out of the exchange, aside from some absolution, was that Dustin didn’t feel the need to rush all the way to Meldacio to check on Noct personally, a decision of calm that would probably echo softly down the line, or at least Ignis hoped it would. Dustin mentioned casually that they would assign some people to the area, just like Luna had predicted, but he didn’t say who or when or if Ignis ought to look out for them, so he went about his business and promised to keep Dustin or someone informed if there were any important changes. He didn’t specify what counted as important, but he hoped Dustin wasn’t expecting to hear about Noct’s report cards.
Pretty quickly after their initial exchange, Ignis started noticing people lurking around the corners of his vision, which rather put him on edge. He mentioned it to Gladio one afternoon while they were out restocking his hunt supplies in the town.
“Yeah, I’ve seen ‘em too,” Gladio said, glancing slyly over his shoulder at the one that had caught Ignis’ attention. The man wasn’t doing anything in particular. Anyone would have thought he was just moseying through the market, like so many others were.
“So I’m not losing my mind,” Ignis said, relieved. He tried not to look at the man. “What do you think, dear? A bad actor?”
Gladio huffed a laugh and said, “He’s not standing out that much.” But he knew what Ignis meant. “Hard to say. Think we oughtta lure ‘im into an alley or somethin’? Scare some answers out of him?”
“I think that might make us the bad actors,” Ignis said with a snort. “Let’s just go about our business for the time being.”
The man eventually disappeared into the crowd and they were left to wonder if he’d made himself visible to them on purpose, and if so then for what reason. They kept an eye out for that particular man, but they didn’t see him again the next time they went out. Instead, Ignis caught someone else surreptitiously watching them, and a different person the time after that. The first man only showed up again the next week, and Ignis didn’t know about it until Gladio came back with his ‘new hunting pal’, Markus, who he introduced to Ignis over tea while the kids were at school.
“Nice to meet you, Markus,” Ignis said with calculated cordiality. “I’d love to know why you’ve been stalking us.”
Markus glanced nervously over his shoulder at Gladio, who’d probably already gotten at least an abbreviated version of the story. “I was sent by the Crownsguard. That is, I’m, I’m with the Crownsguard.”
“I don’t remember you,” Ignis said bluntly.
“I’m, um, I’m a new recruit,” Markus told him, looking a bit nervous, as if Ignis might find his answer wanting.
And he did; he raised an eyebrow and said to Gladio, “They’re taking new recruits?” Gladio didn’t know any more than he did, so he just shrugged.
“Well they, th-they needed more members, after Insomnia and everything, so they started picking from the, the local hunters and things.”
The stammering didn’t do much for Ignis’ confidence in the man’s Crownsguard readiness, but it didn’t feel like he was lying so he took the story at face value and didn’t immediately haul the man off to the town’s small jail as a Nif spy. It was sort of logical, anyway, that the Crownsguard would start recruiting new ‘talent’ after so many had died or gone missing. But could they trust these random locals from… “And where did you say you were from?”
“Taelpar. It’s… west of Old Lestallum?”
Sent through the grapevine then, not directly from Dustin in Tenebrae. “And what exactly were your orders?”
Markus, rightly, appeared unsure if he should be telling them this, and if he was a well-trained low-totem member then he shouldn’t. But it seemed he was a badly-trained low-totem member; he didn’t know that they were (technically) high-ranking officials, but he caved anyway. “Just to watch out for you!” he promised hurriedly. “You two and your son.”
Ignis smirked mirthlessly, irked with whoever handed down the orders for missing out on Prompto. Regardless of the emotional aspect, it was negligent not to mention the fourth member of the family. It put too much emphasis on Noct, or else made the upper Crownsguard members look like they were misinformed about the makeup of the Scientia family, neither of which reflected well.
“Well if you’re going to be watching us, you ought to know that we have two sons,” Ignis said. “So kindly watch out for the both of them, would you?”
The way Markus nodded, fervently, made it pretty clear that he had no idea why he was watching them, which suited Ignis alright. He just hoped the man and his other colleagues (who they might or might not wrangle for similar talks) would not get too curious. Ignis personally had always hated being told to do something without a detailed explanation as to why, but he was given to understanding that not everybody was that way, and it seemed the Crownsguard had opted for unquestioning obedience in its newer members. If they were lucky it would stay that way.
After Markus sheepishly finished his tea (eying it like he thought it might be poisoned, but drinking it anyway because offending Ignis might be more dangerous), he went back to whatever he did when he wasn’t actively keeping an eye on them, and Gladio started laughing.
“Poor guy thought you were gonna rip him a new one.”
“If you were really worried about frightening him, you didn’t have to bring him here,” Ignis said. “I would have believed you just fine if you’d simply relayed the results of your field interrogation.”
“Yeah, but it wouldn’t have been as fun,” Gladio said with a shrug. Ignis was halfway through cleaning up tea when Gladio mentioned something else, which first struck Ignis as out of left field. “Y’know, we’re gonna have to adopt Prompto for real now.”
Ignis froze with a mug half washed and turned to Gladio with a frown. “What makes you say that?” he asked, before his mind sped through their recent conversations and landed on a likely explanation. “Because we told Markus we have two sons?”
Gladio raised his eyebrows. “We gotta keep our story straight.”
He certainly had a point; it was the sort of careful bookkeeping Ignis usually advocated for. But he found himself frowning, rather bothered by the idea. “I should have spoken more carefully,” he said with a sigh.
Matching Ignis’ frown, Gladio said, “Haven’t you been thinkin’ about it for a while? I thought it was kinda inevitable anyway.”
“Perhaps,” Ignis said. “But the timing seems rather careless. I’d… meant to come to the decision on my own. Our own, that is. It feels somewhat wrong to only finally adopt him because we must.”
Gladio gave Ignis a sympathetic smile. “Y’know, I doubt it really matters to him why we do it. He’ll probably just be happy to never have to go back to his quote-caretaker’s place.”
“You don’t think…” Ignis began, pausing because he already knew this sort of overthinking wasn’t going to get him anywhere. But he wanted to be honest with Gladio about his feelings, even if they were stupid. “You don’t think he would resent us if he found out? That we hesitated to adopt him? That we could never treat him with as much care as we must treat Noct?”
“I don’t think it matters,” Gladio said, shaking his head. “Kids resent their parents for stupid stuff all the time. You can’t worry about that. You just gotta do what’s best for them.”
What was best for Prompto? It wasn’t going back to that ramshackle and overcrowded house on the edge of town. Ignis knew Prompto was embarrassed to have to go back once a week to check in, but it had seemed like the reasonable compromise when he couldn’t in good conscience commit to splitting his attention from Noct. At least, that was what he’d told himself, but obviously he was already doing exactly that. He fed Prompto, bought him new clothes, helped him with his homework. He calmed Prompto’s occasional nightmare. He wished him goodnight and sometimes kissed the top of his messy blonde head. Neither he nor Gladio really treated the boy any differently than they treated Noct, even referring to them both as their kids.
Maybe Prompto would be upset with them some day in the future, when he inevitably learned that he was at best their secondary concern, but they could do right by him at least until then, couldn’t they?
When the kids got back from school, Ignis made them a snack and let them work on their homework for a little while before he cleared his throat awkwardly, drawing Gladio’s attention away from his book. The kids looked up as well, so Ignis came and sat down near them. “Prompto, would you be disappointed if you didn’t have to go back to your caretaker’s house?” he asked, even though he couldn’t imagine a single circumstance in which the answer could ever possibly be ‘yes’.
“Not really,” Prompto said, instead of ‘no way!’, because he was a nice kid. He cocked his head and looked at Ignis innocently with his big bright blue eyes. “Why?”
Noct’s eyes went even bigger. “Really?” he asked Ignis, bouncing where he sat. He held his breath as he looked between Ignis and Gladio, as if worried the illusion might break.
Ignis held his hand up at Noct; this was a moment for Prompto. “Then you wouldn’t mind living here permanently?” he asked, feeling just a little nervous himself, like Prompto might actually turn him down.
“Like, forever?” Prompto bit his lip and locked eyes with Ignis.
What Ignis was offering was really a lot more complicated than that, of course. He didn’t imagine Prompto would live with them forever. He’d probably move out when he became an adult. And, of course, there was the real likelihood that none of them would stay in Meldacio long-term. But Prompto was six, going on seven, and Meldacio was all he’d ever known. He probably couldn’t even conceptualize living somewhere else, let alone growing up and having his own life one day.
So Ignis said, “Yes, forever. If you like.” When Prompto just stared at him with his mouth slightly agape, Ignis cleared his throat and asked, “...Would you like? It would make us your parents, you know.”
“And I’d be your brother,” Noct told him, very serious about the matter.
“...Okay,” Prompto said with a watery smile.
Noct cheered and Gladio reached over to ruffle Prompto’s hair, but Ignis was caught on his hesitation. “Are you sure, Prompto?”
“Yeah, I’m sure!” Prompto said, nodding fervently. He bit his lip though. “But… it’s just… Is it okay? I mean, am I really allowed?”
Ignis hadn’t looked into the legality of it, but he’d had a fairly decent grasp of custody law as it applied to Insomnia, and he had an even better grasp of the way things worked here in Meldacio. It wasn’t a lawless place by any means; they had a jail, and even a half-democratically elected sheriff, but she mostly dealt with assault and theft. The peacekeepers handled general disorderliness, and there was a committee for solving property disputes. Which children belonged to which parents was a matter of least concern, particularly when there were still so many children who didn’t have a proper family. Literally nobody was going to be upset if the Scientia family absorbed Prompto into their fold. Prompto’s caretaker would be thrilled; even though she handled almost none of his responsibilities anymore, it would still be one less kid for her to have to keep track of. The only other person who might have the slightest interest in the situation would be Prompto’s school teacher, and Miss Contreras was definitely one of the parties who’d been on the side of getting him adopted all along.
“Of course you are,” Ignis told him, giving him the gentle smile he often tried to use with the sometimes-anxious boy.
Gladio grinned and crossed his arms to look tough. “Yeah and if anyone has a problem with it, they’ll have to go through me.”
That definitely seemed to help, if Prompto’s goofy grin was any indication, although the expression did fall to something a little more serious after a moment. “So, do I have to call you guys ‘dad’?”
A surprised laugh bubbled up out of Ignis. “No, you don’t have to. You can call us whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“I just call them Iggy and Gladdy,” Noct said, as if Prompto was actually new to the family and hadn’t already absorbed most of Noct’s mannerisms regarding his parents.
“Do I have to decide now?” Prompto asked Ignis.
“Take all the time you like,” Ignis replied. “There’s only one thing we have to do today, if you want this to be official, and that's to break the news to your caretaker.”
As usual, Prompto wasn’t excited to go back, but knowing that it would be the last time he’d ever have to see that house made him dredge up every bit of courage and resolve that lived in his tiny body. After dinner, the four of them marched across town to say their final goodbyes.
“Wanna take another one?” the caretaker joked, as Prompto (followed closely by Noct) went in to check for anything he might have left, and say a few awkward farewells to the other kids who hadn’t been lucky enough to make friends with one of the few children in town who had two successful parents.
“Apologies, but we’re at capacity,” Ignis told her, mostly avoiding feeling any guilt over not helping further orphans, because he’d never initially intended to help even one of them. “Best of luck.”
They went home after that, the kids skipping the whole way, and that was pretty much that. Nothing really changed in their day to day life, except that Prompto had a period of trying out different ways of referring to them before he defaulted back to what he’d called them before: Iggy and Gladio. (Gladdy was apparently a little too familiar for him, but Iggy was just right. Given that both Noct and Gladio called him that ninety-nine times out of a hundred, he wouldn’t have been surprised if Prompto didn’t even know who ‘Ignis’ was.)
The only other thing that Prompto’s adoption prompted was a few letters to Lunafreya, as the boys were excited to share the news with her, and Ignis felt he had to let her know he’d finally done what she'd silently thought he ought to. She hadn't voiced her opinion on the matter at the time, but he'd felt her disappointment over Prompto’s exclusion.
‘I’m very happy for all of you,’ she’d replied, and he could practically feel the pride emanating from the paper. ‘I would love to be there to share in your joy, but as we’re still busy with our journey I simply ask that you give Prompto a hug for me.’
He would never be so bold as to refuse a princess her request, so that evening he made sure to give Prompto a goodnight hug. “This is from Miss Luna,” he told the boy, which had Prompto blushing happily.
“Can I have a hug from Luna?” Noct asked.
Ignis crossed the small loft bedroom and wrapped Noct in his arms. “I’m sorry, she only gave me the one. You’ll have to accept a hug from me.”
“Fine,” Noct grouched, but he hugged back anyway. “Maybe she’ll give me one next time.”
Before Ignis could head back downstairs, Prompto spoke up with hopeful trepidation. “Wait, Iggy. Can I have a hug from you too?”
Warmth spread through Ignis’ chest as he gave Prompto his second hug. “Of course,” he said into his hair. “You can have as many as you like.”
Perhaps it was because he'd grown up somewhat isolated from his family, or maybe simply because of the awareness that Noct and Prompto were not truly his children, but Ignis had not been as physically affectionate as he sometimes thought parents were supposed to be. He gave the kids hugs and kisses sometimes, because sometimes it was clearly the appropriate thing to do, like when they'd had a nightmare or a bad day at school. But that sort of affection didn't come naturally to him. (Even his easy physicality with Gladio only seemed natural because it was practiced.) He had to remind himself to close the distance and wrap the children in his arms when they seemed upset. It was something he approached consciously, and every time he had a moment of doubt that it was the correct thing to do. One's personal space was not something that should be invaded casually.
Gladio sometimes joked that Ignis had a lot of motherly instinct, but this was one regard in which it didn't seem to be true, and he often found himself regretting it. The children deserved his boundless affection; they deserved not just to know but to feel that Ignis loved them and would always be there for them. They didn't deserve for him to hesitate to take their small hand or kiss their tears away.
So for all the good that Luna did for them, that long-distance hug was perhaps the one Ignis most appreciated. After that night, the boys were less shy in asking for his affection when they wanted it, and in time that eroded Ignis’ inappropriately strong sense of propriety on the matter.
But Luna wasn't the only one he had to quietly thank for renewing the Scientia family's sense of casual intimacy. A few months after Aranea’s initial return, but before she had finished guiding Lunafreya around Lucis, another woman of great importance came to visit their humble abode. However, her importance was only great to one of them, and Gladio would have balked at Ignis calling her a ‘woman’. His darling little sister was much too young for a term like that. ‘Woman’ implied someone that men might notice, and by the gods they had better not be.
It was the week of Noct’s fabricated birthday (and by extension also Prompto’s; he didn't know his so Noct offered to share his own), and they were considering plans to host a small party in the park, presuming the weather held. The boys were drawing up invitations for their classmates, while Ignis and Gladio mulled over the menu and discussed how many hunters they should conscript for added security, when a knock sounded at the door. This time it was early enough that Ignis wasn't suspicious, but he still wondered rapidly through the different people it might be as he went to answer it.
To say he was shocked when he opened the door would be something of an understatement, because it had been years since he'd seen the man who stood there, and even back in the day Ignis had never expected to receive a house call from him.
“Cor!” he said with a gasp, fighting not to stand at attention. Old habits died hard, apparently. He also fought not to ask ‘what brings you here?’, because it would have been a stupid question in that circumstance. What brought any ‘guard or ‘glaive to their door?
But Gladio was at his elbow in half a moment, and he apparently thought the question a bit less silly. “Long time no see,” Gladio said with a grin. He'd always been more casually friendly with the man, probably because Cor had been friends with his father. “What brings you here?”
Apparently the question was not as dumb as Ignis had thought, because Cor’s answer was not what Ignis expected, nor even a deflection of the truth. He smiled back at Gladio and shook his hand, more cordial than Ignis had ever seen him. “Aside from thinking it was long past time to catch up, I brought someone who wanted to see you.”
And to Gladio’s surprise, as well as Ignis’, a teenage girl stepped out of Cor’s impressive shadow, tugging back the hood of her traveling cloak. She was holding back both tears and a great big smile as she tipped into Gladio's arms and squeezed him tight around his chest. “Gladdy!”
Gladio looked stunned, eyes wide as he stared down at the girl in his arms. “Wait… Iris?!”
She pulled back and looked up at him with a huge grin. “Surprise!”
Chapter Text
If Ignis was surprised not only to see Iris after so long, but to see her so grown up, then Gladio was flabbergasted. He normally adjusted to shock fairly quickly; in fact, he was smoother than Ignis at recovering from unexpected developments. But he had such a distinct image of his little sister in his mind, and he’d fought so hard to come to terms with their separation, that it must have seemed like suddenly a central pillar of his life was knocked down and replaced with something he didn’t understand.
She still had her arms around Gladio (though she couldn’t reach quite all the way around), but Iris was leaning back so she could gaze up at his face like he was some kind of miracle. When Ignis was able to look away from her, he looked at Gladio’s face and found his expression was so dumbfounded that it couldn’t possibly have been a good sight for his estranged sister. He laid his hand on Gladio’s shoulder and gently squeezed, which seemed to help snap him out of his shock.
Gladio swallowed heavily, like his mouth had gone dry, and he blinked rapidly a few times as he shook his head slowly. “Iris… What the heck are you doing here?”
“What, can’t a girl wanna visit her big brother?” she said with a slightly unsteady laugh, like her composure was teetering on the edge of her emotions. “And what kind of question is that? Shouldn’t you say something like… oh wow, look how beautiful you’ve become!”
A ragged laugh burst out of Gladio as he stared down at her. “You have. …You look just like mom.”
“Aww, come on now,” Iris said through a sudden sniffle as her composure broke and tears started to well up in her eyes. She buried her face in Gladio’s chest, and he hugged her to him.
Ignis was willing to let this reunion go on as long as they needed (within reason), and Cor seemed comfortable with waiting too, but Noct came up behind him and held on to his sleeve as he peered around Gladio’s body to their new visitors, obviously concerned.
“Noct, this is…” He thought quickly over how to explain Cor. “...Gladio’s uncle, Cor, and sister, Iris. It’s been a very long time since we’ve seen them.” He glanced up at Cor in apology for their years of radio silence, but luckily he didn’t seem to hold a grudge, or he was very good about keeping his poker face.
“Nice to see you again, Noct,” Cor said, with just a slight nod that was nowhere near the bow he was sure some Crownsguard would have tried to give.
“Again?” Noct asked, raising an eyebrow.
Ignis turned to him. “Ah, right. Do you remember I told you how we all used to live in the city, Insomnia? You met both Cor and Iris back then, although you probably don’t remember it.”
Iris looked up from Gladio’s arms, her gaze zeroing in on Noct. “Oh my gosh, you’re so big! When did that happen?”
Laughing, Gladio shoved Iris’ shoulder gently. “You are way too young to be saying things like that.”
Dislodging herself from her brother, Iris grinned down at Noctis. “You were just a baby last time I saw you. I babysat you while your, uh, dads worked.” With a little gasp of excitement she turned back to Gladio. “Ah! That means I’m his aunt, doesn’t it? Aww, I never thought I’d be an aunt!”
“Hey, what?” Gladio laughed, mildly offended, or at least feigning offense. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
”You know what that means,” she teased, and Ignis took a step back to watch the sibling banter from a little more distance. Noct still didn’t seem sure about their new visitors (Prompto was craning his neck curiously, but he’d stayed at the table to kick his feet and wait impatiently). It was better to handle these sorts of reunions inside, though, lest people start to wonder why they were so popular.
“Please, come in, you two,” he said to Cor, who nodded and ushered Iris in before him. “You’ve met Noct, though it’s been a while. This is his brother, Prompto; officially adopted quite recently. Prompto, this is Cor, and this young lady is Iris.” He tilted his head at her. ”Aunt Iris?”
Iris clasped her hands together and stared at the boys in wide-eyed wonderment. “Prompto? I’ve heard all about you!” Ignis doubted that was exactly true, but he also could envision the lively girl scrounging up every bit of information there was about the prince and his new brother. “I would love if you called me Aunt Iris!”
The boys were both clearly a little overwhelmed by the exuberant new guest, but Ignis couldn’t in good conscience ask her to tone it down, nor could he tell the boys to go to their room while the adults (and relative adults) caught up. Unlike Luna’s initial visit, there was no reason for him to fear for Noct’s safety, other than the risk that Iris might just possibly hug him to death. She certainly seemed to want to, but was restraining herself admirably, clinging to Gladio instead.
“Um, hi,” Prompto said with a little wave and a shy smile.
Noct was somewhat less friendly, which was par for the course. “Aunt?” he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “But I thought Aranea was our aunt.”
“There’s not really a limit on aunts,” Gladio told him.
Iris nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yeah, we had like… six? Wait, five, I think. Mom came from a big family,” she said to Noct, as if he’d understand. The mere concept of extended family was still fairly new to him. He just stared like she was talking in a foreign language.
“Any idea what happened to ‘em all?” Gladio asked her quietly, not exactly intending to bring the topic to the forefront of the family’s conversation, but clearly desiring to learn everything he’d had to forgo knowledge of for so many years.
“Yeah,” Iris said, “but I’ll fill you in later.” She sighed, comfortably overwhelmed, and looked around the little house, then back to Gladio. “Gosh, I’ve missed you. And you too, Ignis! I can’t believe… well, just… everything!”
“Feeling’s mutual,” Gladio said, gazing down at her softly, while Cor sidled around him and came to join Ignis where he was preparing the customary refreshments.
“Apologies for surprising you like this.”
Ignis shook his head. “It’s no issue,” he told Cor, handing him a mug to hold while the water boiled. “If your motive truly is what you claimed, then you’re entirely welcome. It isn’t often we get friends visiting for the visit’s sake. And Gladio’s clearly quite happy.” He glanced back at Gladio and his sister chatting in the living room, glowing with joy, and couldn’t help the smile that overcame him.
Nodding, Cor said, “I understand your reasoning for settling here, and I think it was ultimately a good decision, but it’s been hard on her.”
“I’m sure Gladio appreciates you watching out for her,” Ignis said with a small nod, thanking him in Gladio’s stead. “Mint, or chamomile?”
“Chamomile,” Cor answered, taking the offered sachet.
The kids were still watching them a little warily, but there was nothing much that Ignis could do to convince them that these were friends, other than lead by example. Despite knowing that Cor’s presence very well could mean trouble, he affected a loose posture as he prepared mugs and caught up with the Marshal. Still at the table nearby, Prompto watched them furtively, keeping his head down and distractedly coloring his invitation. “How long do you plan to be in the area?” Ignis asked, hoping he sounded much more casual than his initial discussions with Lunafreya.
“We don’t have a strict time frame,” Cor told him.”There’s a lot to do in Lucis: months, if not years’ worth. As for Meldacio specifically? It depends on Iris.”
Proving that they’d both been listening, the kids’ heads swivelled toward her, where she was still joking with Gladio near the doorway. Ignis and Cor followed their gaze. “Woah, that’s a lot of attention all of a sudden!” she said with a laugh. “What’s going on?”
Noct stared up at her with that regal intensity he sometimes had. “Mister Cor said it’s up to you how long you guys stay.”
Gladio snorted. ”Mister Cor.”
“Ohh,” Iris said with a nervous chuckle. “Well, I dunno… Uh…”
“It’s our birthday soon,” Noct told her. “We’re having a party this weekend.”
Prompto perked up, forgetting that he was trying to be unobtrusive. “Yeah, you could stay for the party! And you could help us decorate!”
A gleeful light sparkled in Iris’ eyes, to be suddenly both invited and conscripted to help with the prince’s birthday. She glanced around the room and then at Cor, but not for too long; he’d already (apparently) said it was her choice. “‘Til the weekend? Yeah, we could probably stay that long,” she told Noct, grinning.
Immediately, Prompto scooted over to make more room at the table. “Then you can help us with the invitations!” Cor and Ignis shifted over to make room for Iris to join the mess at the tiny kitchen table, which was still stuffed perilously close to the sink and stove.
(He loved their house, really, but if they were ever to rejoin the Crownsguard properly, Ignis would look forward to settling some place with a kitchen wider than his arm-span.)
That was about all it took for the kids to warm up to their guests. It was funny how children could be so unsure of someone and yet still want to play with them. Ignis imagined that if Iris had turned down their invitation, Noct would have taken it as a grave insult. But luckily, she seemed as enthusiastic to be involved as they were to have her.
“Oh, it’s both your birthdays?” she asked as she dutifully copied one of the invitations they’d already finished. Laughing, she said, “When you said ‘our’ birthday I thought you meant, y’know, the royal ‘we’.”
Noct obviously had no idea what that meant, but he didn’t spend the time trying to figure it out. “Prompto didn’t have a birthday so I gave him mine.”
”Awww,” Iris cooed, covering her gooey smile.
As the three of them worked, Ignis and Cor joined Gladio in the living room, sitting somewhat stiffly on the old couch with their full tea mugs. Ignis was, for some reason, mildly surprised to see Cor diligently sipping at his; he understood logically that Cor was just a man like anyone else, and that he certainly drank something on the regular, if not necessarily chamomile tea, but a part of Ignis still saw him as this indomitable figure that he’d seemed when Ignis was young, more a living statue than a man. He supposed many people saw him that way; it couldn’t help that he was called ‘the immortal’.
Gladio didn’t seem to have this problem. Cor had been good friends with his father, after all. Even King Regis had probably felt somewhat like an uncle to him, especially if his extended family was as big as Iris implied. (It was not something he and Gladio spoke of often. He barely knew a thing about Gladio’s mother, except now that she had apparently looked a lot like his sister. Though to be fair, Ignis had probably spoken all of five words about his own parents.)
“So you’re really just escorting my little sister around?” Gladio asked with a smirk. “Don’t you have work to do?”
“There’s always work to do,” Cor replied. “But less and less of it can be done from Tenebrae. In fact, we’re working on expanding our operations back into the area.”
Ignis tilted his head. “This is awfully far from your home base.”
“Far from where we’ve been lately,” Cor agreed, “but not far from home. One day, maybe one day soon, we’ll begin making our way back.”
“Retake the crown city?” Gladio asked, one part dubious, one part excited. (The doubt was reasonable, Ignis thought, yet he could feel the excitement too, and he wasn’t sure if he was simply echoing Gladio’s patriotic emotions or if they were truly his own. Insomnia had been his home as well, after all.)
Ignis glanced at Noct, trying to gauge whether they ought to discuss this while he was nearby, but it seemed they couldn’t avoid it forever. He’d clearly already taken note of their conversation and homed in on it, as if he knew it was something he wasn’t supposed to know. Still, he was old enough to start understanding some of their country’s more recent history, and trying stringently to hide it would do no good.
“But aren’t there daemons in the city?” he asked. “Isn’t that why everyone left?”
Ignis looked to Cor for the answer, hoping he had a better idea of how the story of Insomnia’s fall should be disseminated to the young prince. “We left because the Imperials attacked,” Cor explained. “The daemons came in afterward, when the king was no longer there to protect the city.” To the lot of them he said, “We’re gathering experienced daemon hunters with the intention of retaking the city, zone by zone.”
“Ooh, Gladio can help you!” Prompto said, knocking over his box of crayons in his excitement to be helpful. “He’s really good at fighting daemons!” Noct glared at him, while Iris tidied.
“We may need his help when the time comes,” Cor told Prompto with a grateful nod. “But for now he has a more important job: looking after you kids.”
It was clear that neither of the boys thought watching them was anywhere near as important as fighting daemons, and Ignis could see further doubt in Noct’s eyes as he observed Cor– not as if he was suspicious of the man’s motives, but like he knew there was something he wasn’t being told. They were lucky that the kids were used to most of their acquaintances being hunters, so they didn’t immediately notice a soldier when they saw one, or at least not that they were a soldier. Still, Cor had the most regal bearing out of all of them, and Noct seemed to see that. He didn’t challenge him about any of the things he was saying, but Ignis could see him thinking.
“In the meantime, he’s got me to help,” Iris said with a proud grin, which had Gladio raising an eyebrow at her. It only took a moment for her meaning to sink in, and then he glared at Cor, dark and just shy of hostile.
“You’re not,” he said with a threatening depth to his voice, hoping that he’d misunderstood.
Cor raised an impassive eyebrow at Gladio’s anger, as calm and collected as he was known for being. “Training her? Of course I am. She’s an Amicitia. It’s what your father wanted.”
“She’s just a kid,” Gladio emphasized.
“I’m fifteen!” Iris huffed. “The same age you were when you–” She stumbled to a stop before she could slip up and say something sensitive, frowning at the need for secrecy. “When the city fell. Don’t tell me you didn’t use your sword at all.”
Gladio wanted to claim that it was different, but Ignis could see him thinking it through, doing the math. Was it really different? Were the two of them somehow more capable at that age, and if so then why? Because they were boys? Because they were taller? Because they had to? Ignis thought back to that time; it was almost like a dream, yet he could still feel the way the tension of that month had settled in his neck and bled down into his heart. He remembered the moments following the first explosions, and how his perception had shifted so suddenly; it was his perception of himself, though he hadn’t realized it until later. In those few minutes he’d gone from potential to kinetic, from a child who would one day have purpose to an adult that held the world in his hands. Had Iris looked at the world around her and started that transformation herself? Did she feel more adult than those around her wanted to allow?
“I don’t send her out into the field by herself,” Cor promised them. “If she fights, she’s well supervised. But she mostly helps with reconnaissance.”
That had the desired effect of calming Gladio down somewhat, but he was still clearly tense about the idea of his darling little sister going into combat situations, and Iris certainly noticed. “That’s the world we live in now, Gladdy,” she said with an apologetic shrug, as if she had long-since accepted what needed to be done and what she could do, but wished she didn’t have to disappoint her brother. Forcing a smile, she added, “But I bet you’ll handle everything while we’re here, huh, big-shot hunter?”
Gladio didn’t take the bait and brag about his prowess. In fact, he went the opposite direction. “I don’t think so,” he said. “You think you’re some kind of hunter? Then you’re coming with me. I’m not just gonna give you my blessing without seeing you in action.”
Iris snorted. “Your blessing?” She gave him an amused, unimpressed look. “It’s not like I’m getting married. Besides, it doesn’t sound like you asked anyone’s blessing.”
“Extenuating circumstances,” Ignis said, sipping his tea with a small smile.
Cor fixed Iris with a strong look. “You didn’t come here to fight with your brother. Go with him. Consider that your training while we’re here.”
“I know,” Iris said, mildly abashed. She obviously respected Cor enough not to try to badger him like she was comfortable badgering Gladio. “Alright, Gladdy. Whenever you’re ready. I’ll show you what I can do!”
“Tomorrow,” Gladio said, relieved that Cor was on his side in getting Iris to relent. “We’ve still got this party to plan.”
It wasn’t terribly hard to put aside the more serious talk in favor of planning the details of the kids’ party. The boys certainly had more to say about it. They described to Iris all the games they were going to play, and all the foods Ignis had promised to cook. “Sounds fun, I can’t wait!” she told them, almost certainly cementing her spot as a favored aunt (not in contrast with Aranea, of course, because, as they’d learned, there was no limit when it came to aunts).
“Will you need a place to stay?” Ignis asked Cor as the evening wound down and he threw together a quick dinner for the lot of them.
“We’ve got a place,” he answered. “We’ll be staying with a mutual friend, I believe. Markus?”
Gladio smirked at Ignis. “Oh yeah, our good friend Markus. I bet he’s thrilled to have ya.” The novice Crownsguard had barely stood up to Ignis’ penetrating stare, and he didn’t even know who the Scientias actually were; he could hardly imagine that he did anything other than quail under Cor’s gaze.
“Well then, perhaps he can join us at the party this weekend,” Ignis suggested. “The more the merrier, after all, and all the better if they’re hunters.”
“I’ll be sure to ask him,” Cor said, though Ignis assumed that his intention was a little more solid than an invitation.
The boys were likely to be distracted in their excitement all week, but they still had school in the morning, so Ignis ushered them up to bed after dinner, and they went without too much whining. It helped that they knew Iris and Cor had promised to stay for a while.
“They should be asleep soon,” Ignis told their guests as he came back down from the loft. “But they do sometimes sneak back down for a midnight snack, or because they can’t sleep, so please bear that in mind.” He was fairly certain they understood what he meant by that: that they should still be careful what they said, even if the modicum of privacy let them speak a bit more candidly.
Perhaps any mention of princes or prophecies was off the table, but Iris knew something she could pester them about, with youthful glee. “So you guys are really together. Like actually for real! I knew it!”
“Whaddya mean, ‘you knew it’?” Gladio asked with a huff. “You haven’t seen us for ages.”
She shrugged fluidly. “Yeah, but I remember you two back in Lestallum. Remember when I caught you cuddling?”
“You didn’t catch us doing anything,” Gladio said, rolling his eyes. “We weren’t sneaking around. Anyway, we weren’t together then.”
“So I’ve heard!” Iris laughed. “Which is how I know you’re a real dummy, because it was pretty clear that you were into each other.”
“Now, now, Aunt Iris,” Ignis said, smiling. “Don’t blame Gladio. I am as much responsible for the delay as he is.”
Iris shook her head. “Yeah, maybe, but I can’t make fun of you.”
“Why not,” Gladio said. “He’s your brother now too.”
”Awww.” Iris’ face turned silly and sentimental again, a look that was so charmingly strange to Ignis. “I wish I was here to push you two idiots together sooner, but I’m just glad we’re finally back together again.”
“For a while, huh,” Gladio said, with a breath that was not quite a sigh.
“Yeah,” Iris said, soft and a little sad. “But… I dunno. Have you guys thought about coming back?”
“We will, some day,” Ignis told her. It wasn’t quite a promise, and maybe she knew it, but it was an inevitability, which perhaps she also knew. “But Noct and Prompto deserve a life away from prying eyes, for as long as we can manage.”
Both Iris and the mostly-silent Cor nodded at the explanation. Ignis imagined they’d heard his reasoning from either Dustin or Luna and had already had time to come to terms with it. “Yeah, I get it,” Iris said, looking between him and Gladio where they sat comfortably close on the old couch. “So do you guys.”
What they deserved was never really up for debate; it wasn’t about them and never had been. But he appreciated her saying so, whether it was true or not.
None of them were too eager for privacy right then anyway, particularly not from each other. Iris clearly didn’t want to leave Gladio’s side, and he expected Gladio was loath to let her go either.
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” Ignis told both her and Cor as they were getting up to leave them to their evening. “Although there’s only the couch for a guest room.”
Cor politely declined and promised to catch up with them soon, but he inclined his head silently at Iris, who turned to Gladio and Ignis hopefully. “You don’t mind if I stay the night?” she asked, arms behind her back shyly.
“‘Course not,” Gladio said, cocking his head as if the question was stupid. “Our house is your house.”
“Although if it were your house, we’d have to expand it a bit more, I think,” Ignis mentioned wryly, neither quite a joke nor a suggestion. He knew Gladio was already thinking about it.
“Then I leave her in your care,” Cor said with a nod, seeing himself out to presumably hole up in Markus’ place, wherever that was. They didn’t worry over him; he had always watched out for himself and often worked alone, to the point of presumably preferring it. They said their goodnights and locked up, and then soon found themselves lounging in bed, the three of them chatting the night away, eschewing sleep in favor of years of reminiscing. With kids to look after, Ignis was sometimes a stickler for schedule, he admitted, but on a night like this the joy in Gladio’s eyes more than made up for whatever rest they might miss.
Eventually they all drifted off to sleep, and when Ignis woke to find Gladio with one arm around each of them he thought the man had never looked happier. He hoped it could last– that maybe it would be a sign of good things to come.
Their stay was much less business oriented than Luna’s had been. Cor spent his work hours checking in on the invisible Crownsguard hierarchy, but he didn’t seem rushed or stressed about it. He didn’t require Iris’ help at all, so she did as he’d either suggested or commanded (Ignis wasn’t sure enough what their relationship was like to know) and followed Gladio when he went to hunt. Ignis cleared space in his schedule to go with them a few times, in case Gladio’s worry was warranted, but it wasn’t; though she didn’t match her brother’s strength, Iris was as good a fighter now as Gladio had been at her age, less focused on heavy-hitting attacks, but perfectly able to bring down any average beast if time permitted. She was obviously proud of her skill too, which Ignis was glad to see. It was that confidence, more than anything, that convinced Gladio that she was at least becoming a woman all her own, and not just a little sister.
(Gladio was not wholly convinced about Iris’ technique, even if she seemed skilled. “Close quarters is a recipe for disaster,” he tried to tell her. “You should learn to use a sword, especially if Cor’s your trainer.”
“It is a rather bold choice,” Ignis agreed, “bringing fists to a knife fight; and most beasts come well-equipped with them.”
“Thanks, but nah,” Iris had replied, and continued on punching monsters.)
Other than hunting, they spent most of their time doing nothing of any consequence. They showed Iris around the town, played with the kids, and sat around chatting. Without a serious limit on their time, none of them felt they needed to get down to brass tacks as quickly, a preferred situation for all involved. They would almost certainly have some kind of serious discussion before too long, but it didn’t feel necessary to rush into it.
At the end of the week came the boys’ birthday party. They gathered in the park, just beyond the stables, for a party that resembled the kinds Ignis remembered from his early childhood. Most of the kids from Noct’s class had showed up, as well as many of their parents, who mingled casually and ate grilled meats and cupcakes while their children played semi-organized games in the wide-open field, safe and surrounded by patrolling hunters and Crownsguard, though they might not have known it. (For the most part, the hunters and Crownsguard didn’t know that it was the prince whose party they were guarding, but that didn’t stop them from being vigilant. Noct and Prompto were Gladio’s kids, and that was enough extra reason to make sure they were safe and sound.)
“Are you really expecting something to happen?” Iris asked the previous day, when she and Cor joined them for lunch at the house, a little while before school let out. She seemed a little surprised at what she might have thought of as their paranoia, as if settling in the well-defended town of Meldacio should have alleviated their concerns for Noct’s safety.
(And maybe it was paranoia, Ignis thought to himself: an irrational, groundless fear that something terrible might happen at just the perfectly wrong moment. But then, it had happened before, hadn’t it? They’d been planning Noct’s first birthday when the invasion started, and he still wondered if the Empire had really meant to attack during the event. So maybe that did make him a little wary of birthday parties.)
“Nothin’ specific,” Gladio answered. “It’s just to be safe, especially out there on the edge of town. Sometimes a hungry sabertusk thinks it can get a bite of chocobo and wanders a little too close.”
Iris had hummed. “So, you’re not worried about Noct specifically? Somebody attacking when he’s out in the open like that?” She looked between Gladio and Ignis, like one of them would be concerned if the other wasn’t.
“We can’t be,” Ignis told her. “We’d lose our minds if we fretted about his safety every time he left the house. It’s a conscious decision, and a difficult one, but we must have a certain amount of faith in the safety of the town.”
She didn’t seem quite convinced, although they didn’t know why until she asked, “So you don’t think anybody knows who he is?” At their cautiously concerned expressions she explained, a bit timidly, “It’s just, I’ve heard… well, there’s rumors that the prince survived.”
“Wishful thinking, I imagine,” Ignis said, although it was as much a question. He hadn’t heard any such rumors, at least not enough to constitute the word rumor. Of course people always hoped that secretly things were better than they seemed, especially in dark times, but did anybody really believe that?
Gladio cocked his head at Cor. “You think people are serious about it?”
Cor didn’t seem like a person who cared for rumors, but he was also a diplomat so he had to know what power they could carry. “It may only be in Tenebrae,” he admitted. “But I’ve heard them as well. It’s a poorly guarded secret that the Crownsguard have taken refuge there, so much that I might not call it a secret at all. The people seem to have followed the logical conclusion that the Crownsguard only exists to guard the crown. Therefore, there must still be someone to wear that crown. The prince was already such an unknown that it was probably easier to latch on to the idea of his survival than Regis’.”
There was silence for a moment as the information settled in, and then Ignis asked, somewhat irritated, “Should we have known about this?”
“You know about it now,” Cor said, and that was that. It was hardly more than the rumor of a rumor, so there was nothing more to say.
Despite their concerns, the party went off without a hitch, not an Imperial or sabertusk in sight.
The next time the kids were at school, Iris and Cor visited again, for some of that serious discussion they’d known was inevitable. However, they didn’t talk much about Noctis or the prophecy or the Scientia family rejoining the Crownsguard. Rather, the seriousness surrounded their impending separation. Iris came to the conversation already somber, knowing her time there would be drawing to a close.
“Y’know, you don’t have to go,” Gladio told her. “Hey, if you wanna live with us, we’ll build on to the house. Or I’ll find you a place in town. Whatever you need.” He wasn’t quite anxious, but his desire not to lose his sister again was clear not only to Ignis, but to Cor and to Iris herself. The soft, sad look on her face said that she appreciated it so much more than words could say. Still, she approached the offer with pragmatism.
“Thanks, Gladdy. But… you have a job to do, and I have a job to do.”
“You’re fifteen,” he said, unwilling to get past the number, particularly if he thought it could win him the argument. “You don’t need to have a job.”
“I do, though,” she countered with a wistful smile. “I’m an Amicitia too. …I guess I’m the only one left, actually. And I want to do what I can to protect the prince.”
“You can protect him here,” Gladio offered, and they all knew it wasn’t close to an unreasonable suggestion. It would even be helpful. “Rather have you hangin’ around than those new recruits. Not that I don’t appreciate ‘em, but…”
Iris shook her head. “We can’t stay. The Empire knows too much about the remaining Crownsguard. We probably shouldn’t even have come. I just… needed to see you again.”
Gladio sat back in defeat. He knew when his sister was serious about something. She’d shown her grown-up commitment over the past week, and Gladio knew he had to accept it.
“So back to Tenebrae then?” Ignis asked.
“No, not yet at least,” Cor replied. “Tenebrae was never meant to be our permanent base of operations. We’re going to help strengthen the Crownsguard outposts in Duscae and Leide. If we want to reclaim the city, we need a strong local presence. Leide will be the key.”
There was a bit of a soft spot in Ignis’ mind, when he thought of the Leiden countryside, dusty though it was. “Then I imagine you’ll find yourself in Hammerhead at some point,” he said. “Give our regards to Cid and Cindy. They were a great help to us in the beginning.” He caught Iris’ eye to make it clear that the request was for her, as much or moreso than for the Marshal.
“Consider it done!” Iris said cheerfully, glad to have a task to look forward to. It was a relief for everyone; a reason to let her go.
“It’ll take some time,” Cor said, moving back to the plan, “but we’ll need your help, when things get set up. I had my doubts, but after seeing you two this week, it’s clear that the domestic life hasn’t dulled your edges. The positions your predecessors left are still open to you, and I hope you’ll take them.”
Ignis and Gladio both nodded. Cor was as close as they had to a king, and his words carried an enormous weight. “Means a lot, comin’ from you,” Gladio said, looking the tiniest bit misty-eyed at the whole situation.
Conveniently, Cor still had several days worth of work to do in town, which gave Iris several days to cling to Gladio’s arm between bouts of lavishing attention upon the kids.
“I’m gonna miss you guys!” she said several times per day, hugging them close now that they’d warmed up to her. They were really warming up to the hugging too, so much so that Ignis thought he might have trouble making up for the lack of Aunt Iris hugs once she’d gone. He was going to have to conscript Gladio to the task as well.
“Do you really have to go?” Prompto asked as she fondly played with his hair.
“Yeah… Cor and I have work to do in Leide.”
“The desert?” Noct asked, wrinkling his nose. He didn’t like the idea of desert even though he’d never visited it; too hot and not enough places to fish, he seemed to think. “Why do you have to go there?”
“Because it’s closest to the city,” she reminded him. “And we’re gonna take the city back! Eventually.”
The boys were excited by her fervor, but also rightly cautious. “Just make sure you bring Gladdy when you go in,” Noct instructed her seriously. “You shouldn’t fight daemons on your own.”
“I know,” she said with a soft, adoring smile. “I won’t.”
Ignis just hoped for Gladio’s sake that she would keep that promise. Regardless, they had to trust her to make adult choices, and they had to trust Cor to support her through them. Worrying over Iris was not their job, as she reminded them when they made to leave a few days later. She and the other Crownsguard would handle things throughout the country. All they needed to do was take care of Noctis. “And Prompto, of course,” she added, as charmed by him as anyone.
“We shall,” Ignis promised her with a light bow.
She waited until he’d straightened to pull him into a hug. “And take care of Gladdy for me too, okay?”
“You have my word,” he told her, wrapping his arms around her and relishing in the momentary melancholy of having a sibling for the first time.
They promised they’d visit from time to time, given that they’d still be in the country at least, and even Leide was only a day or two’s drive from there. Then they left town for the next outpost in need of Cor’s oversight, but not before he gave them a bit of parting advice– or, as it might be, a Marshal’s soft command towards soldiers not quite under his employ.
“You should start training the boys in combat.” He shook his head at looks that Ignis didn’t even know they were giving him. “They’re young, I know. But time passes more quickly than you might realize. Take it from an old man.”
“You’re not that old,” Gladio protested, but Cor wasn’t having it. He knew the truth he was trying to speak.
“I’m the oldest one left,” he said, just a hint of sadness coloring his voice, grief for the friends he’d lost, his fellow soldiers who’d died protecting their kingdom.
He didn’t make them promise, but the suggestion sat so heavily on their shoulders that Ignis knew they’d have little choice, even if they hadn’t been considering it already. Perhaps not immediately, but they would start training the kids, because Cor was, as usual, right. Time passed quickly, and the world was a dangerous place.
That night, Ignis hugged the kids a little closer than he would normally. They didn’t ask him why; they just seemed happy to have his affection. After that, when he followed Gladio to bed, he hugged him closer as well.
“I don’t know when this will all be over,” he murmured, “when or if we’ll have the opportunity to live entirely honestly. But when that day comes, be it ten or twenty or thirty years, I’d like for us to take the Amicitia name, and keep it until death do us part.”
“Babe…” Gladio stared at him with such naked adoration that Ignis felt his heart flutter. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Yeah, well, I already said it: Ignis Amicitia’s a real classy-sounding name.”
“You’re right,” Ignis said, resting his nose against Gladio’s cheek. “I would love to have such a beautiful name, and I’d be honored to be a part of the illustrious Amicitia family.”
Gladio nuzzled against him, holding Ignis close in the warm late-summer night. “You’re already part of it.”
Chapter 24
Notes:
This is now officially my longest fic! Thanks for helping me get here!!
Chapter Text
Much like everything else he did, Gladio took his separation from Iris in stride. Ignis had worried that their temporary reunion might just serve to highlight how much he’d missed her, how lonely he felt without his family and friends at his side, but in fact it seemed to steady him instead. Though sometimes, in quiet moments, he might sigh and admit that she was on his mind, that he hoped everything was going well and that Cor damn well better be watching after her, he seemed satisfied that they were living their own separate lives. He was proud of her, Ignis could tell.
It probably helped that they were much less separate than they’d been all those years. As busy as they were, and as valuable as fuel was, she and Cor couldn’t come visit as often as any of them would have liked, but they saw her twice more that next year, when Cor could come up with some excuse as to why he needed to be in the area, and the year after that she tagged along with other Crownsguard five or six times, apparently finally old enough to be let out from under the marshal’s watchful eye. To Gladio’s temporary disappointment she always went back, though he usually admitted later that he appreciated her dedication to the job she’d taken upon herself.
“We all have one,” she always reminded him, ruffling his hair as if she was the mature big sister, spouting wisdom to her wayward brother.
Someone they didn’t receive any further visits from, unfortunately, was Lady Lunafreya. It always hung in the air as a distant possibility, that she might be able to stop by during her travels, but it never came to fruition. She finished her initial tour of Lucis, but then was needed back home in Tenebrae. To the kids she explained it as being needed back home; in a more detailed letter to Ignis she wrote of the political unrest that was starting to rise in Tenebrae in her absence. She’d needed to leave, in her training as oracle, but she needed to return as well, now that her journey was complete.
‘The Empire has long coveted a stronger hand in our governing,’ she wrote. ‘Only the great respect afforded the oracle has stayed them. That is one of several reasons why I had to take up the mantle, and why I could not delay returning.
Fortunately, however, I do not return empty-handed. I have learned much on my travels, and I believe with prayer I will soon understand the fate the gods will upon our planet, and what we must do to ensure it.’
It wasn’t an answer to the question that had settled into Ignis’ soul in the past months, but progress was progress, he had to remind himself. That Luna was still trying would have to be enough; it wasn’t as if he could do anything about Noct’s presumed fate after all, except to keep him alive until he reached it, which would turn out to be difficult enough.
Now that Luna was no longer traipsing about the Lucian wilderness, Aranea at least was able to return to Meldacio, though her overarching goal no longer required her to be there. She was less a Crownsguard, and more an anti-Imperial freelancer who had simply found herself working closely with the Tenebraen government. She was not under the command of Cor, Lunafreya, or anyone else unless she explicitly put herself in that position, and she did so only on a per-job basis, as suited her preferences.
So when Luna left Lucis to return to her homeland, Aranea apparently decided she preferred not to follow. She showed up at the door to the Scientia house in the middle of that year, months after they’d seen her last, looking carefully nonchalant.
“Hey boys,” she said as Ignis opened the door wide enough for Gladio to see her from his spot on the couch. She lifted a bottle, gesturing into the room with it. “Mind if I come in?”
Ignis certainly didn’t (as Aranea had been cleared from his hit-list through no fault of her own, the same as she’d gotten on it), but he looked over his shoulder. This was Gladio’s decision. Having thought so highly of her before, it was he who felt the most betrayal when she turned out to be something of a spy, which Aranea surely knew. And they had ‘made up’, as it were, during her initial return, when Lunafreya was in tow, but it was clear that Aranea still expected there to be some tension, as if perhaps Gladio had only grudgingly accepted her apology because there were more important things to be upset about at the time, and that maybe now that things had settled down he wouldn’t be as welcoming of her as he’d once been.
And there was still some of that poking about in his mind, Ignis was sure, but Gladio was not an over-thinker. His gut had said he could trust Aranea, and ultimately his gut had been correct, despite the details. He wouldn’t forget that she’d been dishonest with them (for good reason, but dishonest nonetheless), but he didn’t hold quite the grudge she apparently thought he might.
“Gonna behave yourself?” Gladio asked, smirking with barely-suppressed good humor.
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” she replied, with a charming little chuckle that was trying to obscure her nerves.
Gladio shrugged and stood up to take the bottle from her. “Just trying to avoid any more surprises.” He nodded for her to follow, and Ignis closed the door behind her with a smile. “My little sister showed up a few months ago, out of the blue. Gave me a couple more grey hairs while she was here. Not that you’d know anything about that.”
With glasses of ale, the three of them sat around and caught each other up on their lives over the past half-year, and everything was about as back to normal as it could ever be, now that they all knew each other's secrets. When the kids came home from school an hour later, they dropped their things at the door and bounded up to Aranea in their excitement, and from then on it was as if she’d never left.
But like Iris, she couldn’t stay. She was dedicated to her job of making things hard for the Imperials, and that was not something that could efficiently be done from Meldacio. After about a week of hunting with Gladio, she brought them another bottle and casually said, “Well, I better get back down south soon. My boys get anxious without me.”
“Your boys?” Gladio asked with a faint scoff. “I thought we were your boys.”
Aranea hid her smile behind a sip of ale. “Jealous?” She gave Gladio a moment to respond, which of course he didn’t, and then explained. “I’ve got a team. They function alright without me, but it’s better if I don’t stay away too long. Empire’s gotten a little uppity lately, now that your Crownsguard is trying to get their foot in the door, so we’ve got a lot to do.”
“Is there anything we can help you with?” Ignis asked, though he didn’t expect she needed their assistance even if she wanted it.
She shook her head. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. The mere threat of the prince existing is a real bee in their bonnet.” When her drink was empty, she stood up and went to the doorway, where she adjusted her armor and hair and then looked over her shoulder. “I’ll come back to visit from time to time. Okay?”
Gladio followed her to the door and gave her arm a nudge with his. It was as close to a hug as the two of them were likely to ever get. “You’d better,” he told her, apparently catching her off guard.
Her surprised, youthful expression turned nearly sentimental as Ignis stood to see her off as well. “It wouldn’t do to neglect your duty as an aunt,” he said. “Your job may be important, but do make time for family as well.”
“Got it,” she replied, turning away as if she could hide the fact that their words had touched something she didn’t often allow others to see.
Over the next few years she would come by perhaps half as often as she had on her less-present weeks of spying on them, the weeks when she had presumably been managing her team of saboteurs under the guise of going on longer hunts. It was often enough, especially after two long absences, that the kids didn’t ask what else she was so busy with. They were getting old enough to start understand that their adult acquaintances’ lives didn’t revolve around them, that the world was full of people who had absolutely no interest in two kids from Meldacio, and even people they loved, like Aranea and Iris and Luna, were busy thinking about other things most of the time.
The irony was not lost on Ignis, when he tried to help the two children come to terms with the fact that people couldn’t just drop everything to visit them. He hated that it was painfully true for one of them, and a bald-faced lie to the other. There was not a person in the world who would put Prompto above all, something he regretted but couldn’t change; yet Noct was unknowingly the center of so very many peoples’ lives that a single word from him really could make half the world stop spinning.
He didn’t know that yet, but the revelation would happen one of these days, and it grated on Ignis’ nerves that he had no way of knowing how or when it would occur. He sometimes thought of getting ahead of it and telling Noct something of his true identity, but even admitting that he and Gladio were not his real parents was too difficult, even though the opportunity cropped up from time to time, conversations with Noct that would have let him segue into it without too much trouble.
A little before his next birthday, for example, he came home from school having heard the story of the fall of Insomnia. It was something that Ignis had taught him a little about previously, but it had not been personal enough or interesting enough to really stick in his mind, despite knowing that they’d all come from the city during that tumultuous time. The fact that it was true for nearly everyone in Meldacio seemed to make it a mundane story. But his teacher had provided more information than Ignis had, a link that made the kids care more than they ever would about the fall of a dusty old king and a city they didn’t remember.
Over lunch that day, Noct looked up from his sandwich and stared at Ignis for a few long moments, a sure sign that something was on his mind, before he said, “We talked about Insomnia at school today.”
“Did you learn anything interesting?” Ignis asked, fighting down the anxiety that always tried to make itself known when the subject came up around the kids. It was something they were going to have to learn about eventually, after all.
“Sort of,” Noct said, as if he wasn’t clearly preoccupied with it. “Apparently the prince would be my age, if he lived. It was almost his birthday when the city was attacked.”
The anxiety bubbled to the surface so rapidly that Ignis could only hope it wasn’t somehow visible on him. He wondered if the rumor was really circulating now, that the prince might have somehow lived. Were people so desperate for a savior that they were beginning to believe it? “Yes, well,” he began. “The city was very large. Probably a hundred other children were born that week.”
Noct didn’t seem to be thinking there was anything more to their connection than coincidence. “It’s just sad that he died as a baby,” he said with a frown.
“It is,” Ignis agreed. He imagined most people were disappointed and sympathetic over the death of a small child that could have been their next king, that it left the average citizen with a feeling of melancholy, but probably nothing like the devastation he would have felt had things gone wrong. It was a unique position to be in, knowing that the truth was better than it seemed, but still could be so much worse than anyone understood. When he balanced it all out, Ignis thought ‘sad’ was probably a fair assessment.
“How do you think he died?” Noct asked, with an unusual touch of morbidity that was perhaps becoming unfortunately normal, for a child his age, in his environment. Even if his father didn’t kill things for a living, Noct would certainly not have avoided becoming aware of death and war, living where and when they did. Even so, he didn’t remember the day of the invasion, thank the gods; he didn’t know how dark the answer to his question could really be.
Grimacing, Ignis said, “Many people died that day, none of them peacefully. It’s best not to think about it.”
No child liked to be rebuffed like that, and Noct was no exception, but he knew when his father was serious, if not from his words then from his somber expression, and he let the question lie. But a few days later it was apparently still on his mind, the fate of the fallen prince.
“What do you think his name was?” Noct asked, as he distractedly helped dry dishes. At Ignis’ questioning hum, he clarified, “The prince. Miss C didn’t know.”
“No, the public wasn’t told,” Ignis explained. “It was a tradition, to withhold the prince’s name until his first birthday.” He handed a plate down to Noct, and waited patiently for the long few seconds it took him to notice it. “But perhaps they named him Regis, after his father. That’s quite common among nobility, after all.”
Noct’s nose wrinkled. “I wouldn’t wanna be named after my dad. No offense.”
“None taken,” Ignis said with a soft laugh. He couldn’t help but agree. ‘Regis’ would have been a poor name for the somewhat moody child beside him, nor would ‘Ignis’ or ‘Gladio’ have fit. And that was to say nothing of the logistics of having two like-named people living in such close proximity. “They could have called him Mors,” he added, “after his grandfather.”
“I like Noctis,” Noct said, shaking his head.
“So do I,” Ignis agreed, a smile pushing up into his eyes, even though Noct seemed to have forgotten the dish he was drying.
Tilting his head, Noct asked, “How did you come up with my name, anyway?”
It would have been a perfect time to admit that they’d had no hand in choosing his name, but after he’d failed to allude to it throughout the whole rest of the conversation, Ignis couldn’t convince himself to take the plunge. “Perhaps it came to us in a dream,” he said instead, with an air of mystery. If nothing else, it sometimes felt true.
It was all just another reminder that Noct was not his, or at least not his child. It was getting harder to forget that the boy was his all-important prince, not simply his all-important son. They were being slowly folded back into the Crownsguard, which made it all the more difficult to maintain the illusion of ignorance. More days than not now, it seemed, they had some kind of contact with the ‘guard, or with Luna, or with someone else who knew the truth of their identities and was not content to let them forget.
He wished he could. He wished he could go back to the days where it was only his own anxiety that reminded him how serious everything was, where he would sometimes find himself so mired in the mundane details of raising a child that it could occasionally slip his mind who the child in question was. But he couldn’t make people forget him. Even if Ignis grabbed his family and ran, hid in the depths of the forest or on a desert island somewhere, someone would search until they were found, if fate didn’t find them first.
There was no way of knowing how the Empire found them, but it felt worryingly to Ignis like the culmination of many strings of fate being woven into the picture they were supposed to eventually portray, as if it were inevitable and always had been.
Meldacio had been attacked by Imperials a fair number of times before, but guards and hunters had always repelled the soldiers before they came close enough for the citizens to even know anything had happened. Most of the time they were just roving patrols, the same sorts that heckled travellers and smaller towns for seemingly no reason, and it wasn’t difficult for Meldacio’s militia to convince them not to come any further. Sometimes (according to Gladio, because Ignis never saw any of these tussles) the town was approached by a more organized force, a larger and more equipped set of soldiers that seemed to have a purpose, but even those were normally handled either east or west of the town’s protective tunnels.
So far only one time had the soldiers managed to get into the town, but one time was one time far too many.
Nobody was sure what had happened; Ignis certainly didn’t know. He’d been helping out at one of the restaurants further out in the town. The kids were already home from school, so he normally would have been home with them, but the owner had asked for his help just during the dinner hour, and this wouldn’t be the first time the children had been left at home for a little while on their own. At nearly eight years old, they knew better than to let strangers in, or go running off on their own, and living as close to the town center as they did it was unlikely that anything could happen without someone noticing.
Practically the whole thing went down before Ignis became aware. He’d been stirring a delicate sauce when he heard a commotion go up among the diners in the other room, and then someone had burst in with the news that Imperials had somehow gotten into the city and were running amok in the town center. Ignis was out the door in a second, but in the two minutes it took him to dodge townsfolk and make his way back beneath the arches, the battle was over. Heavily armored corpses lined the street between the general store and the bathhouse, and a few militia members sat in lumps on the side of the road, cradling bruised and bleeding limbs, while others rushed to-and-fro.
After assessing that the immediate danger was gone, Ignis hurried to their door, to find that it was half-broken. He fumbled for his key and ran in, calling “Noct! Prompto!” much louder than necessary for the size of the house, as if the boys might fail to hear him. But no reply came, and his blood froze in his veins. He scrambled up the ladder to the loft but found it empty; they weren’t in his bedroom either, nor in any of the few other places they might hide. He was on the verge of panic when the two boys trotted in with worried expressions on their faces.
“Iggy, are you okay?” Noct asked, closing the distance between them and grabbing Ignis’ arm.
“Am I alright?” Ignis repeated, his heart beating painfully hard with relief. He took Noct’s shoulders and held them tight enough for the seams of his shirt to leave an imprint in both of their skin. “Are you alright? Why weren’t you in the house?!”
Noct shrank back, staring up at Ignis nervously. “I… thought we should hide,” he said.
Ignis shook his head, sighing heavily. He was relieved that the boys weren’t hurt, but what had possessed them to leave their home during an attack? He’d thought he’d taught them better. “That was incredibly dangerous, Noct! You should have stayed inside.”
Instead of arguing, Noct just looked at the front door, still mostly in one piece, but splintered and hanging unevenly from its hinges. Ignis followed his stare, imagining if the invaders had been defeated maybe just a minute slower. Would he have come home to tragedy? But apparently not; the boys had hidden elsewhere, as if they’d… known.
“We hid in the back of the hunters’ storehouse,” Prompto told him, eager to be of some help to the situation.
“How did you know that would be safer?” Ignis asked.
Noct looked up at him, then looked away, obviously hiding something. Prompto waited anxiously for Noct to answer, rather than providing his own.
“Noct?” Ignis prompted gently.
He waited quietly for a response for several long moments before Noct sheepishly said, “A… fox told me.”
Ignis’ mouth opened, but he didn’t immediately have a reply. He looked to Prompto to corroborate this story; had he seen this fox? Prompto gave an uneasy shrug before averting his eyes. He hadn’t seen it, but didn’t want to betray Noct’s story by denying it. Was that it? Or was the nervousness they shared about something more than a child’s lie?
Shaking his head, Ignis said, “Noct, you can tell me the truth,” which only made Noct glare at him before his sight turned inward and he looked away. Ignis could only sigh. “It’s fine. I’m just glad the two of you are alright. But please, don’t run off the next time something like this happens.”
“Do you think it’s gonna happen again?” Prompto asked, biting his lip.
“Hopefully not,” was all Ignis could say in response.
The rest of the evening was awkward, their family unnaturally quiet among the commotion of the town rapidly removing all evidence of the attack. Roth came to check on them a few minutes after the boys returned, promising he’d get their door repaired that night, although theirs wasn’t the only one damaged. The Nifs had luckily gone for property damage rather than slaughter, single mindedly breaking into buildings until they were engaged by the militia.
“What the hell were they looking for?” Roth asked rhetorically, as he leaned on the outside of their house, arms crossed and surveying the damage. “Money? Weaponry? What could the Empire want from a town like this that they don’t already have stockpiles of?”
Ignis didn’t give his opinion on the matter, at least not until that night, when he and Gladio settled uneasily into bed, both thinking that perhaps they ought to stay up, just in case, even though twice the number of usual guards had been posted.
Gladio had been aghast when he’d returned from his hunt to find the town in chaos and their humble home violated. Ignis could see in his eyes that he’d briefly berated himself for leaving town, even though it’d been for work. Ignis felt the same. He was still wondering if he would ever go back to any of his part-time jobs.
They hadn’t spoken on it much until the kids were in bed, when the cover of night and a few closed doors could guarantee some level of privacy to their words.
“Hate that I wasn’t here,” Gladio grumbled as they curled around each other. “I’m just glad you guys are alright.”
“As am I,” Ignis said, releasing some of the day’s tension and melting into Gladio’s shoulder. “It could have been much worse.” He laid there quietly for a moment, appreciating Gladio’s warmth despite the heat of the summer night, and then said, “Noct said… a fox told him where to hide. Prompto did not seem to see this fox.”
“...Imaginary friend?” Gladio suggested, but the slight pause both before and after made it seem like he didn’t fully believe it himself.
“He’s never had one before,” Ignis said. “And, supposing it was imaginary, how did Noct know not just where to hide but that he should hide? Before the soldiers were even on the scene?”
”You’ve got an idea.” Gladio twined a finger in the longer part of Ignis’ hair and tugged softly. “Let’s hear it.”
Ignis preferred not to share hypotheses that he didn’t have proof for, but that was everything when it came to Noct’s unexplained abilities. “You said once that King Regis could speak to spirits. If you’re right, then we’ve seen Noct do it before. Twice he was aware of danger before we were.”
Gladio hummed. “Hopefully no one saw his eyes then.”
“Prompto would have,” Ignis said, thinking back to the way Prompto wouldn’t meet his gaze. “He doesn’t usually keep things from us. Perhaps Noct swore him to secrecy.”
“Probably the best we can hope for, honestly,” Gladio replied.
Ignis considered bringing it up with the boys, but it never seemed to be the right time. They went back to their usual selves fairly quickly, and not long afterward it was their eighth birthday, which of course took precedence over most other issues. They had a party in the park again, this time with chocobo races around the paddock, which were immensely popular with the kids’ schoolmates, no surprise. Also popular with the children were the real training swords the two of them got as presents, heavier and more realistic pieces than the toys they’d been given years before. The kids all clamored to give them a try– though most of their parents stood back and gave Gladio a side-eye for introducing the idea.
In truth, it hadn’t been just Gladio’s idea, no matter the assumption that of course the hunter of the family would be the one adamant about training his children. Ignis had known the day was coming that they would have to take the future more seriously. He’d put it off for nearly the whole year after Cor’s visit, but the attack on the town had finally changed his mind. What if one day Noct’s spectral friend could not be counted on to warn him of danger? What if warning him was not enough? He hoped that the boys would never have to use the real weapons they would some day carry, but Ignis was never so naive as to think his preference mattered when it came to matters of war.
Despite the initial skepticism, Ignis and Gladio were not the only parents to start training their children that year. Tension was in the air, as news of the Empire’s more focussed efforts spread from town to town. Perhaps nobody knew why the Imperials had begun heckling the refugees, who only now had really started to think of themselves as Lucians (and Meldacians; Capiticians; Lestallans and the like) instead of poor, displaced, home-weary Insomnians, but any who’d had their heads in the sand about the Nifs’ aggressiveness were rudely awakened by the attack on the town center. In a controversial move that still managed to be far more appreciated than maligned, the school started offering afternoon training classes for anyone old enough to hold better than a foam sword, tapping the hunters to teach them.
Gladio was obviously first among these teachers, but his fellow hunters took their turns as well, and even Aranea stopped by to lend her expertise from time to time. Ignis initially debated whether or not to host a class, for the sake of their identity; wasn’t it already suspicious that both of Noct’s parents were well-educated, and popular with out-of-towners? To make it clear that Ignis was just (or nearly just) as well-trained as Gladio might be a little too telling. But drills with large swords were a little too much for some of the children, and many of the adults weren’t comfortable with carrying something larger than a kitchen knife around on their person, which made Ignis’ ability to teach and his familiarity with daggers an invaluable combination, something he couldn’t in good conscience withhold from people who could benefit from it.
There was a displeased murmur about the new classes among some families, who felt that this was a little too much like training child soldiers. Ignis understood the misgivings, but he was sure to remind any parents who complained to him that nobody would be sending these kids to war (there was no central government able to demand such a thing anymore, in fact), but that the war very well might come to them, and if they found themselves in a situation where fleeing was not an option, then defending themselves was just possibly a better choice than being slaughtered like lambs.
The parents usually conceded his point, though it didn’t stop them muttering that their children should never have to be in that position. Ignis agreed. Silently, he agreed more than they could know. Ideally, men would stop waging war, and innocents would never be caught in the crossfire. Ideally, the daemons would all settle back into the shadows and stay there. But ‘ideally’ rarely showed its face in this world, something he knew well. So he trained children to observe carefully, avoid when possible, and go for an artery if there was no other choice.
It would be a stretch to say that any of the children they taught (or most of the adults, for that matter) were ‘trained’, even after a few years, with the obvious exception of Noct and Prompto. It was not a great surprise that Noctis took to combat naturally. Ignis imagined it was due to his heritage, that Lucian royalty were naturally gifted. He was intelligent and generally talented, after all (although much like his performance in school, his form was often sloppy and he seemed to exude an air of disinterest). He was competent with a sword, capable with daggers, effective with polearms, adequate with a shield, and a pretty decent shot with a rifle or crossbow– though they didn’t know this until a little later, when they’d struggled to address Prompto’s fear of close-quarters fighting.
Prompto was a gentle kid; he didn’t really like fighting, he avoided conflict, and he typically deferred to others if there was a choice to make. Ignis appreciated that about him, and he understood that it meant he wasn’t really enthused about combat training. As Noct’s closest friend, however, and as his and Gladio’s son, he had to learn some form of self-defense, and he even seemed to want to, if only to be doing the same thing as Noct. Unfortunately, sword-fighting seemed to make him a nervous wreck. When he and Noct sparred against Gladio, or when they were paired up with other kids, Prompto always held back; his strikes had no weight to them, as he seemed to resist committing to a blow. Part of the issue was certainly that he didn’t want to hurt whoever he was sparring with, something that most of their students had some trouble getting over, but just as large of a factor was that Prompto was (quite reasonably) wary of coming into range of someone else’s attack.
To solve this, they tried him out with a polearm. He enjoyed training with Aranea, but his balance with such a long weapon was comically poor. They thought maybe a shield would help him feel more secure, but it just turned him into a turtle instead– too focused on defense to make any kind of offense, and lacking the stamina to keep it up for long. Next Ignis thought to train him in throwing daggers, but he seemed to lack the dexterity to make his projectiles actually pierce the target. Finally they settled on crossbows, and Prompto’s relief to find a weapon he was decently skilled with was a relief to his family as well. They knew he’d felt somewhat ashamed to lack the seemingly natural proficiency that the others had, as if it were some kind of proof that he was an outsider still.
Then one of the gate guards taught a guest lesson in firearm marksmanship, and Prompto fell in love with the man’s old rifle: its worn and scarred stock, the pitted barrel with its antique patina, and the gun’s confident report.
He was a little too young yet to have a real firearm of his own (let alone one that did enough damage to matter), but after some searching and calling in favors, Gladio did manage to get him a roughly similar BB gun to train with, and a promise that when he was old enough, they’d find him something he could really defend himself with.
Ignis wasn’t sure when that would be. It wasn’t just about the type of weapon, of course; they hadn’t gotten Noct a real honed-edge sword yet either, and he wasn’t allowed to carry his training sword around town. It hung on the living room wall next to Gladio’s greatsword when it wasn’t in use, though more often than not these days, Gladio kept his sword on him. Ignis rarely took his daggers off too, except to sleep. He dreaded the idea that they might be caught off-guard again, which was why he was constantly debating with himself and with other parents just when the kids should be able to be armed. If their weapons were just for hunting (in that ideal world), then there’d be no need to have them at arm’s reach, but they were not just training future hunters.
Eight was much too young, wasn’t it? For that kind of responsibility? The kids knew better than to roughhouse with their weapons, but accidents happened. Could they be trusted at nine? Or ten? Thirteen, perhaps? Ignis had trained with real, sharp weaponry at thirteen; Gladio’s father had started him even younger than that. But eight?
The boys kept quietly hoping for their first official weapons, and maybe to be taken out on a hunt with them, but their fathers hadn’t come to a good conclusion by their ninth birthday, or their tenth. The response to their hopeful inquiries was always ‘soon, perhaps’, and they knew better than to beg.
It wasn’t as if Meldacio was rife with danger, anyway. With the number of Crownsguard quietly milling around, it had to be one of the safer places in Lucis. But perhaps that wasn’t true. Ignis hadn’t yet gone out to visit the other Crownsguard outposts that Cor and Iris were setting up, but during their occasional visits they reported that recruitment was going well, and they now had a strong presence throughout continental Lucis. Maybe, then, the other towns and cities were faring well as well.
No amount of Crownsguard presence could save the erstwhile refugees from all of their concerns, though. Even if the Empire ceased being a pain in their asses overnight, there was still a small matter that was becoming more noticeable as time wore on: the darkening of the days. Even though they’d been forewarned by Luna, it came as a shock to Ignis when he realized that the sun was truly fading. It was slow enough that most people didn’t notice immediately. In fact, Ignis heard no rumors at all about it until the year following Luna’s visit, and then it was only just the faintest murmur, easily brushed off as the usual fearmongering by people who were not scared enough of everything else going on.
It wasn’t until the year after that people began to take it more seriously, though at that point it was mostly farmers and hunters– the sort of people whose livelihoods depended on the chase of the sun and moon around their little planet. It was always midsummer that the realization came around: the longest day of the year was somehow shorter than it had been the year before. How, and why? Had the world somehow tilted off its axis?
By the kids’ tenth birthday, there was a definite air of nervousness pervading everyday life, as even the laypeople could not fail to notice that their days had become shorter, that farmers were struggling to grow as much as they once had, and that daemons had more chance than ever to prowl at the town’s edges.
Ignis was fairly certain that few if any of the other Crownsguard knew that Noct was supposed to be instrumental in dispelling this curse (not that most people yet thought of it as a curse; that wouldn’t be for another few years), but he started to get the feeling that those who knew who he was were starting to feel impatient about his continued innocence. He didn’t know what they thought telling him about it would achieve; it wasn’t as if he could actually wield the power of kings yet. Maybe it was hope they were looking for, the same reason rumors of his existence persisted. And sometimes Ignis thought he could understand that. In fact, as much as he dreaded it, he found it harder and harder to justify keeping Noct in the dark, not least because Noct himself was beginning to really notice everything that was going on around him.
He noticed the way that Ignis looked at him sometimes.
He didn’t mean to wear his emotions so clearly on his face, but Ignis was too aware of Noct growing up, and how every day he seemed more princely. He was starting to look like Regis, and nothing at all like either of the men who called themselves his parents.
That
wasn’t what bothered Ignis; if he sometimes seemed sad when he looked at the boy, it wasn’t because of what Noct
wasn’t
(his), but what he
was:
destined for a difficult road.
Noct didn’t know why. He couldn’t yet, when they were still in hiding. So Ignis bluffed with white lies: truths, but not the right ones.
“I just… worry sometimes,” he admitted, when Noct sat next to him on the couch, looked up at him with that strangely knowing expression, and asked what was making him sad. “I worry that things may happen in our world that will stop the two of you from having the calm, peaceful lives I’ve wished for you.”
“Like the nights getting longer?” Noct asked. “We were talking about it in school, but even Mrs. Tade didn’t know why it was happening.”
“That’s… certainly one of the issues,” Ignis told him, rather more vague than he wished he could be.
Noct stared at him. “Why
is
it getting darker?” he asked, confident that Ignis could explain it. That was something he appreciated more than he could say, especially to the kids themselves: that they trusted him to tell them what they needed to know. He was usually the one they went to with questions about the world: why is the sky blue?; what’s the fastest animal on Eos?; what happens when you die?; why did the Imperials attack the city? He did his best to respect their curiosity with thoughtful answers, even when the discussions were difficult. He wished he could always tell them the full truth; he wished as well that he never had to tell them a single sad thing.
He took a breath. “Well, the world is ill, you see. The oracle is working to heal it, but it’s difficult.”
“You mean Luna, right?” Prompto asked brightly, appearing from around the corner, as if he knew something interesting was being said.
She’d officially taken up the mantle of oracle by then, so Ignis didn’t mind admitting it; it would have been difficult to hide. “Yes,” he told them. “And I hope you’ve had the good sense not to brag about knowing her. She may no longer wish to send you letters if she finds that you’ve been spilling her secrets.”
It was no secret anymore that Lunafreya Nox Fleuret was the oracle, but the fact that she was friends with a little boy from a refugee camp would surely turn heads in any of several dangerous directions. Would this be how the people discovered Noct’s identity? Surely nobody would take their relationship at face value, and why should they? The oracle was an important and busy woman, unlikely to have much time for someone who wasn’t some level of equally important. If the kids had told
anyone
that they were penpals with Luna (presuming people believed them), there were sure to be new rumors soon, and Ignis doubted whether he could keep ahead of them. He’d had some amount of control over the narrative regarding Noct up until that point, but all at once he could see it finally unravelling, like a garment held together by one final stitch.
But the boys frowned at him eagerly. “We haven’t!” they both promised, Prompto earnestly, Noct accusingly.
“You haven’t,” Ignis echoed, and they nodded at him. A weight lifted from his shoulders before it could fully settle and he sighed in relief. “Good. I’m sure she’ll appreciate your discretion.”
They appeared relieved too, that they hadn’t disappointed Ignis. Even so, Prompto seemed a little sad. “Why wouldn’t she want people to know we were friends though?”
“She wouldn’t want people to be jealous,” Ignis lied, feeling just a little guilty about it. “The oracle is an important person, after all. She doesn’t have time to be friends with everyone.”
The boys were chuffed enough by the idea that they were special that they didn’t ask him
why,
which Ignis appreciated.
Trusting that the kids would be true to their word, and keep their friendship with Luna private, Ignis was able to relax just a little after that. There was still a mounting pressure from all sides, like a storm converging on their location, but overall things were okay. Life was still good, in most of the ways that mattered. Ignis simply had to
remind
himself of the fact, on the occasion, rather than forgetting his woes naturally, like he had sometimes in years past. Logically, he knew the reprieve was the odd thing: after all, when in his life had he ever been allowed to just forget his responsibilities and worries? That was not his lot– something he had come to terms with long ago.
But it was alright. For the time being they were safe and secure. They had food and shelter, friends and allies they could rely on. The Crownsguard family was closing carefully in around them, and this time it was not suffocating.
And he had Gladio, who he loved and was more grateful for than he thought words or actions could properly express.
And he had Noct. After all this time, after nine years of worrying that the little prince might be ripped away, he was still here: safe, secret, and within arm’s reach. That was what mattered most of all, and that was why his tenth year would not end in Meldacio.
Chapter 25
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The debate continued: do we arm our children, or is that a risk and responsibility they shouldn’t yet have to bear? The answer to the first question eluded Ignis, though the answer to the second half would always be yes. They should not have to bear it.
Many of the children wanted to. It was a way for them to feel grown up, and like they had some control over the world. Weapons certainly did afford some control, but control over others was a dangerous thing to give a child who was still mastering themselves. Parents of some of the teens and older children began to let their kids carry swords about the town, but still plenty more weren’t ready to make that commitment. Not arming their children (or themselves, as many civilians still feared keeping arms, perhaps reasonably) put them at risk of coming to harm at the hands of another– a risk that seemed ever more likely as news of Imperial aggression spread. But weapons carried the inherent risk of harming someone else, through ignorance if not malice, and it was difficult to decide which risk was the greater.
With the clarity of hindsight, Ignis knew what he would choose, but, admittedly, it wouldn’t likely have made much difference.
The arms that many Meldacians trained with were sufficient for fighting off small beasts, and would probably pierce Imperial armor if need be. Nobody expected the average citizen to be able to go toe-to-toe with a soldier, but they certainly stood a chance. The students who trained under the hunters and militia might even be able to fend off smaller daemons. Just a few people in Meldacio could stand against what showed up one winter evening, and none of them were there to get between it and its target.
Ignis was in the schoolhouse, teaching his weekly defense class before dinner, when the Imperials appeared above the town-center. He didn’t see them, but their flying transport had to have approached from a blind spot, for how quick they made it between the stone arches after the guards started firing upon them. When he heard the sound he froze, listening just long enough to decide they were gunshots after all, rather than some other noisy echo, before he hurried for the door, his more confident students at his heels.
In the several moments it took for him to get out into the schoolyard, disaster had struck. There’d been a boom that rattled windows and doors, a chorus of screams and yells, and the sounds of trampling feet and destruction. He pushed through crowds to get out to the street where he could see what was happening, daggers conveniently already drawn, but ultimately useless against what he found.
At the other end of the town center lay what had become of their house, surrounded by a thick cloud of dust. It laid in splintered ruins, the living room and bedroom smashed to bits, while the two shipping containers were dented in. An electric jolt of panic spiked through Ignis, lighting up his insides, tensing his muscles for a wild leap forward, but everything went in slow motion as he struggled toward the house and the massive daemon that rose up out of the dust as it settled.
For a frantic stride or two, he thought somehow it was a human despite the size, her scowling face framed by wild hair, a pair of arms brandishing massive swords. But her skin was as blue as twilight, and beneath another several pairs of swords she sat on a scaled tail wider around than most ancient trees. A naga, Ignis thought in despair; Marilith, he would learn was her name, long after he had any reason to care. She loomed over the wreckage of the house, and perhaps Ignis was not yet close enough to see her eyes but he knew she was scouring the mess, and he knew what for. Dear gods, he hoped that the spirits had warned Noct again; he should have spoken to Noct about it, he should have encouraged him to heed its appearance; he should have acknowledged the gods’ hands in this rather than trying to keep them away; used their help, however capricious it might have been, and come up with a plan.
He stumbled into someone as they tried to back away; no surprise that nearly everyone was trying to flee. But as the form of a young boy scrabbled into the street, tracked by the Marilith’s gaze, one shape disengaged from the crowd and dashed to help. Ignis couldn’t tell who it was from that distance, but it was horrifying all the same when the Marilith batted them away with her sword, as if they were a fly, leaving Noct standing stock-still behind their bleeding body, neck craned back to look the long way up at the daemon. She reared back.
A mere hundred yards separated Ignis from Noct, but it may as well have been miles for all the good he could do. He took five steps, each more agonizingly useless than the last, watching as the daemon’s swords came down above Noct’s head, his breath caught in fear and then astonishment on the sixth and seventh steps when the heavy blades landed with a meteoric thud in the asphalt. Noct fell back from the impact, and quickly scrambled to his feet.
Another Crownsguard hurried forward and distracted the Marilith just long enough for Ignis to close another ten yards, before she cut them down and turned on Noct again. He could hear the hiss as she reared back once more, and her scream of rage when a blink left Noct just beside her sword as it came down, the shockwave cracking the deck of the general store.
“Noct!” Ignis yelled, but he was still too far to be heard with the dust and debris settling around them, and too far to be of any use. His heart ached as he pushed forward, fit to burst in his chest, and he wouldn’t have a single regret about dying of it, if it meant he could save Noct first. But all he could do was watch in horror at the scene unfolding before him, closer and clearer by the moment. Fifty yards away; another miraculous near-miss. Forty yards away; Ignis slowed just enough to fling a dagger at the daemon in desperation, but it came up short. He could see the wild whites of the Marilith’s eyes as she whipped her tail around to sweep Noct’s legs out from under him. Thirty yards away and he was gripping his next knife, desperate and so painfully worried it wouldn’t reach its mark before her sword came down. There was a flash of movement behind the creature at the same moment that his dagger left his hand, and at twenty yards it struck the Marilith in her arm, just as Gladio plunged his sword through her chest.
But it was too late. Noct and the daemon both screamed as the tip of her sword swiped across his back and she jerked back in pain. Ignis stumbled to a halt to pick up his first dagger and then ran on, yelling for Noct again, though distantly he realized it would do no good. In just a few seconds more, he leapt at the Marilith and stabbed at her with more rage than precision. She twisted around to face the bigger threat of Gladio’s greatsword, stunned by the sneak attack and too slow to counter as they came at her from both sides.
“Get Noct!” Gladio yelled as he tried to keep the Marilith’s attention, swiping at one of her arms when Ignis’ movement towards Noct caught her eye.
Ignis switched gears and dropped his dagger as he scrambled to Noct’s side. He lay curled up half on his side, groaning, and when he opened his eyes they were lit with a magenta light that still struck fear into Ignis’ heart. “...It’s okay,” Noct said faintly, his gaze appearing unfocused– before Ignis realized he was looking at something he couldn’t see. A long wound on his back bled steadily, staining his shirt. Ignis stared at him in horror for the two moments he felt he could, aware that they were still within reach of the daemon, even as Gladio tried to draw it away. Even if her swords were focused in the opposite direction, her tail could crush them with hardly a flick.
“Noct,” Ignis said, softly but urgently. He leaned over him, not sure where to put his hands, or where not to. You weren’t supposed to move an injured person, but laying there in the shadow of the giant daemon wasn’t an option. “Hang in there, Noct. I’ll get you to safety.”
“Iggy?” Noct looked over his shoulder, like he hadn’t noticed him there before. “Iggy, Prompto’s still in the house.”
“I’ll handle him as soon as you’re safe,” Ignis promised him. As carefully as urgency would allow, he got his arms under Noct’s shoulders and knees and lifted, wincing at the hiss of pain and little sobs that escaped Noct as he was moved. Hurting him was the last thing Ignis wanted, but he couldn’t delay. Gladio couldn’t draw the daemon too far away from her prey, and already her tail was leaving angry indents in the ground around them, narrowly missing them as Ignis tried to balance speed and stability in his flight from the battle. There was a moment of hesitation when he escaped the Marilith’s range; their house was destroyed, and where else would Noct be safe? Ignis had to help Gladio. Noct couldn’t just stay in his arms, for all that the idea of parting from him was tearing at his already frayed nerves.
He spotted Roth conferring with a guard in the near distance and dashed to him, taking the guard’s place as she hurried to Gladio’s side.
“Noct’s been injured,” he told Roth urgently, as if their fight had not been center-stage. “I need somewhere safe to take him.”
Roth stared down at the boy shivering in pain in Ignis’ arms, and Ignis was just glad that Noct had his eyes screwed shut so he didn’t have to see the way the man hesitated over him. It made Ignis’ stomach drop. This was a life or death situation! What was Roth’s problem?
Deep in the roiling pit of his stomach, he knew, but it wouldn’t be confirmed until the dust had settled.
After a long moment of consideration, which seeped like molasses through Ignis’ hyper-conscious mind, Roth sighed and said, “My place,” and led the way over to his house, just far enough from immediate danger, but close enough to be immediate. He guided Ignis to lay Noct down on the bed, where Noct finally opened his eyes with a gasp of pain that was echoed very quietly by Roth’s surprised inhale. The man stood back as Noct grasped weakly at Ignis.
“Help Prompto,” he reminded him.
“I will,” Ignis told him, the words spilling out of him as a consolation rather than a promise. He glanced to Roth as he stood and made for the door. “Please, watch him.” He didn’t explain why it was so important; in several ways, he didn’t have to. Roth didn’t agree, but he didn’t follow Ignis out the door, and that had to be enough for the moment.
The Marilith was close to done, thrashing about in her death throes. Three other fighters were beside Gladio, whittling her down; as Ignis watched, she slashed one across the shoulder and swatted another away with her tail, her unearthly wails echoing in the semi-enclosed space. For a moment Ignis hesitated, instinct telling him to join in the fray, to make sure the daemon didn’t get any closer to Noct, but the boy’s pleading face came to mind, in pain but heedless of his own well-being when he knew Prompto was still in danger. Ignis turned and jogged for the ruins of the house instead.
It didn’t take too long to find Prompto, and luckily he wasn’t hurt, just scared. He was crouched on top of the lower shipping container, the one that made up the hallway, having apparently crawled out of the loft when it toppled forward onto the wreckage. “Iggy!” he called across the mess, as Ignis tried to pick his way through the debris. “Is Noct okay?”
“He told me to find you,” Ignis called back. It wasn’t an answer, but it was the best he had at the moment.
“I’m okay,” Prompto said, though his voice wobbled over it. “I just can’t get down.”
Leaping over the sad remains of their home, Ignis stood beside the shipping container and held out his arms. “Jump to me!”
Prompto hesitated, looking between Ignis down on the ground, and the daemon not too far away, who was also on the ground. The shipping container, half obscured by its twin, might have seemed the safer place, but Ignis hoped he’d hurriedly realize that if the Marilith came for him (and he was now fairly certain it wouldn’t, except perhaps by accident) that being so high up would give him nowhere to run. Finally, after a short moment that still felt far too long, like the entire past five minutes had, Prompto screwed up his face and jumped the eight feet down into Ignis’ arms. Ignis quickly found them some solid ground to stand on, in the shadow behind their neighbors’ house, which had taken only minimal damage.
He was about to tell Prompto to stay hidden and run back to the battle, when the Marilith gave its last horrible howl and fell to the ground with an earth-shaking thud. Cries of relief went up around the town, from the people all huddled as far away as they could reasonably get without fleeing into the night. Even from the mouth of the west tunnel, where the largest crowd was, it would be clear that the daemon was dead even before it began to disintegrate into inky black dust.
Soon, the people would come down from their frightful highs and start to ask questions.
Taking Prompto by the hand, Ignis led him out into the street, to see the daemon was down to a few last wisps. The evidence of her attack was still there though, in the cracked and cratered asphalt, the several hunters and Crownsguard nursing their wounds nearby, and unfortunately one very still body lying face-up in the middle of the street. With a pang of guilt, Ignis recognized him: the Crownsguard recruit, Markus, who’d moved up from Taelpar to stake his life watching out for a family whose importance he was never even informed of. He’d jumped to protect Noct just because it was his job and the right thing to do, even without knowing he was his prince. Ignis sighed. What a shame that his thanks came post-mortem.
The others, though…
In the sheer relief of having bested the monster, shocked, in pain, and still fueled by adrenaline, several of the once-hidden Crownsguard looked or scrambled up to Ignis as he approached, and if their deference to him wasn’t some kind of sign, then their overlapping pleas to find out if Noct was alright might spark some curiosity.
But a few of them had forgotten their discretion, and the word ‘prince’ slipped out among the jumble of jostling questions. As the rest of the crowd bore down on them, the words were only partly lost in the noise; it was clear from the looks on their faces that several previously-uninformed hunters and guards had heard the slip up. And that wasn’t it.
Wiping sweat from his brow, Gladio came to stand beside Ignis, carefully holding a bruised arm but standing tall as the crowd closed in. “Where’s Noct?” he asked quietly as the clamor began to rise up around them, confused and concerned civilians trying to find out what had happened and if it was safe to go home, while just enough of their perceptive neighbors had noticed that something was off and were beginning to murmur about it.
“Roth’s,” Ignis replied, trying to sidle out of the crowd before it could latch on to them. But too many of the Crownsguard already had, and they’d directed the hunters’ gazes at them too, and before the Scientias could make it halfway back to Noct’s side, it seemed far more of the crowd was looking at them than not. Plenty of them still didn’t seem to know why they were looking; they were simply hoping for some assurance after the chaos. But some of the eyes trained on them were full of hopeful awe, and others were accusing.
Gladio continued ushering them in the right direction, but a little ways away from the door he planted his feet and nudged Ignis. “Go on,” he said, and then met the crowd’s gaze. As Ignis pulled Prompto along, discreetly disengaging from the crowd, he heard Gladio say, “Alright, the daemon’s gone. Everyone should go home so we can start cleaning up the mess it made.”
He probably knew that wasn’t going to be a well-received suggestion; maybe that was why he’d said it, because all eyes were suddenly on him, and the crowd were calling out at him, voices piling on top of each other. Ignis turned away from the commotion but he still heard several of the loudest questions before he slipped through Roth’s door, and they were too knowing for his liking.
Forcing them from his mind, he hurried to Noct’s side, Prompto following close at his heel.
Roth stood at the corner of the bed, every bit of his body language stiff and awkward as he stared down at the groaning child. Noct’s face had gone more pale than usual, and his eyes were screwed shut. He blinked them open when he heard their footsteps, his gaze first landing on Ignis, and then on Prompto, which seemed to cause him some small relief. His eyes had gone back to their usual midnight blue, so whatever guardian spirit had been with him before had seemingly decided it was not needed. (Ignis hoped it was that, and not that the spirit had simply come to the conclusion that Noct was beyond help.)
“Noct!” Prompto rushed to his side, though he stopped short of touching him.
Ignis turned to address Roth, who didn’t appear as relieved to see them as Noct had. He surely knew that Ignis brought the answers he sought– answers to questions he didn’t truly want to ask. But first he answered Ignis’ unspoken question. “Doctor’s on her way,” he said. “How’s the situation out there?”
“Managed,” Ignis replied, though it was something of an exaggeration, where his interests were concerned. “Gladio and several others killed the daemon, but not without–” He thought better of using the word casualties yet, when the kids were so nearby. “--damages. He’s speaking to the crowd now.”
“I probably oughtta talk to them,” Roth said, though he made no move to leave the room. He stared at Ignis instead. “But I think I’d better understand the situation first.”
The words to explain stuck deep down in Ignis’ throat. They didn’t want to come up for anything, let alone here and now, with Roth glaring at him like he had their first day in Meldacio, and Noct bleeding all over the man’s bed. “I’ll do my best, after we’ve seen the doctor.”
Roth nodded in agreement, having no other choice. There wasn’t long to wait. They only stood and half-listened to Prompto’s quiet nervous chattering of assurances at Noct for a minute before the doctor let herself in and quickly found them. She got to work very quickly and with minimal questions; perhaps she didn’t need to ask. Having come through the crowd outside, perhaps she already knew what she needed to know. She carefully rolled Noct onto his front, apologizing as the motion pulled at wounds trying desperately to clot. Ignis watched uneasily as she cleaned and dried the cut, and tried to feel some relief when she promised it was not so deep that Noct would be in any real danger. Her level of focus and her serious expression said she wasn’t content to write it off as a minor flesh wound.
As she dug in her bag for her stitching gear, the front door opened and shut firmly, and Gladio came around the corner. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a warzone, spattered with grime, his expression haggard. “How’s Noct?” he asked when his eyes lit on Ignis, before they slid over to Noct curled in on himself and the doctor sanitizing her needles.
“Gladdy!” Noct gasped, looking over his shoulder but trying to stay still. “Did you get it?”
“Yeah, I got it,” Gladio assured him, coming to stand by his shoulder. “It’s dead. You don’t have to worry anymore.”
Ignis’ heart sank at the kind little white lie; no matter how well-intentioned, no matter how within his rights Gladio was to tell Noct that as his father, it simply wasn’t true. How he wished Noct would never have to worry about a thing, but unfortunately his worries would be tenfold from this moment on. Ignis had and would continue to carry as many of them as he could, but there was no chance that none would settle on Noct’s shoulders. Soon he would have to know that.
And soon he would have to know why.
But Noct seemed genuinely relieved to hear Gladio’s confident claim. Some of the tension drained from him, although it was quickly replaced by the discomfort of a numbing needle before the anaesthetic kicked in. “Okay,” he said, allowing himself to focus on what the doctor was doing instead.
“Is there anything we can do, Doc?” Gladio asked, more tense than Noct was as the doctor started in on the boy’s back with her curved needle.
“This is going to take a while,” she said, not looking up from her task. “Why don’t you all give me some space? His friend can stay, as long as he’s not squeamish.”
Prompto’s voice wobbled a bit, but he said, “I can handle it!”, and the doctor seemed prepared to believe him.
“He can let you know if we need you for anything,” she added, and then waved the adults off.
The three of them quietly retreated to the living room and shut the door between the two rooms, as much for Noct’s privacy as theirs. Gladio quickly gravitated to Ignis’ side, and Ignis breathed a sigh of relief at his solid presence. Then he steeled himself and looked up at Roth, who was watching them warily.
“First things first,” the old hunter said, his stare leaving no room to lie or deny. “Who are you really?”
Ignis shared a look with Gladio; was this the moment that they came clean? Could they? Could they not? Was there any way for them to get out of this without telling the truth? Moreover, was there a way for Noct to get out of this at all?
Sighing, Ignis turned to Roth and returned his look. “For the most part, we are who we’ve claimed to be.” Whatever wasn’t true when they’d first claimed it was true now: they were a family now, and they loved the home they’d made there. They were hunters and parents and teachers. They were leaders; they were adults. They were terrified of the Empire. It was why they’d settled in Meldacio, and why they’d stayed there.
“And the other part?” Roth asked, not dissuaded from seeking inconvenient answers.
With a challenging stare, Ignis admitted what they’d refused to tell anyone for nearly a decade. “We were servants to the crown, in training to support the prince.”
“The prince who died in the invasion,” Roth said blandly. When Ignis neither accepted nor disputed the claim, he added, “The prince who was the same age as your son.” He scowled at them. “I saw when that thing went after him. No way he just dodged it. That was magic, and I doubt I was the only one who saw it.”
He paused to listen to the commotion outside. It was far too loud to be confused for normal evening traffic, though Ignis could not put words to any of the clamoring. Nobody was banging on the door, at least; the crowd outside had not yet turned into a torch-wielding mob.
Roth glared at them, knowing they could tell that the situation was on the verge of spiralling out of their control. “I’ve known you long enough to know you’re not stupid,” he said, though it wasn’t for a compliment. “You’re not going to stand here in my house and tell me that’s not the prince in there.”
“Then I won’t say it,” Ignis replied, his blood thrumming as this man who was very nearly his friend tried to get him to say the one thing he’d never allowed himself to.
Understandably, Roth was upset with Ignis’ reticence. He bristled and took an angry step towards them, and towards the room where Noct lay in pain and more vulnerable than he’d been in many years. “It's clear that thing was after him. The Empire’s been looking for him, and it looks like now they know he's here, and you've known it the whole time. You've put my whole city in danger for years!”
Ignis tried to hold his ground as Roth closed in on him, but his nerves were fraying. Gladio, too, was on edge, but he stood solidly on Ignis’ side, and he stepped in front of him to intercept Roth’s anger.
“Back off,” he said in a growl, “and keep your goddamn voice down. I get you're pissed at us, but Noct doesn't need to hear it, especially not right now. He’s just a kid. None of this was his fault.”
That was enough to give Roth pause. It was as if, in his protectiveness over his beloved town, he’d momentarily forgotten that the child in the other room was just a child, no matter what else he might be. He was a child Roth had watched grow for most his life. It should have been clear that Noct was not orchestrating any of the disaster that befell them. But then, perhaps nothing was properly clear in that moment, except the things that shouldn’t be.
“We never intended to endanger anyone,” Ignis said quietly, willing to have this conversation if the other side was willing to listen. “But for the sake of our prince, we did what we had to.”
He seemed to understand their motives, though like everyone else he questioned if their choices were correct. “There wasn’t somewhere better to take him? Safer, for everyone?”
“What could be safer than invisibility?” Ignis countered.
”Knowledge?” Roth suggested, as if it were obvious that the truth made defending oneself easier. While maybe that should have been the case, Ignis knew too well that sometimes ignorance could be a saving grace, particularly when it pertained to other people.
Gladio crossed his arms. “Yeah, that’s turned out real well,” he said, nodding at the door, outside of which indistinct arguments were still ongoing. “You think all those people needed to know they had the prince living among them? And that’s gonna make their lives better? It’s sure not gonna make ours any easier. ‘Fraid it’s not gonna make his easier either.”
“So he doesn’t know,” Roth guessed cautiously.
“Would you have trusted that knowledge to a child?” Ignis muttered. “It was safer for him not to.”
“If he doesn’t know now, he’s gonna know soon,” Gladio said, glancing at the door to the bedroom like he might be able to see through it and into Noct’s head. “The ‘guard’s trying to do damage control, but too many people saw things they couldn’t explain, and when someone said ‘prince’ it was all over.”
Ignis had thought so, but it was still disappointing to have his fears confirmed. Admitting it to Roth would be one thing; admitting it to the thousands of people in Meldacio would be another, when he had no way of knowing their intentions or allegiances. The fact that they were nearly all Insomnia natives didn’t mean they were all loyalists; he would be kidding himself badly if he tried to pretend that everyone living in the city had loved the royal family, even if it seemed to be true most of the time. It would only take a few dissenters to cause problems at a time like this, and with the stresses of everyday life (still nowhere as comfortable as what most had in the city) and the darkening days, there would be plenty of fuel should someone wish to start a fire. Still others might start a fire by trying to help.
And there was no telling what sort of spark might ignite when they had to tell Noct. It may only be himself that burned, but that was still too much. He was at a sensitive age, questioning and self-reflective, and this new knowledge of himself could do more harm than good, to say nothing of the way people would look at him. Ignis could already see their stares, loaded with hope and hatred and so many other things a ten year old boy should never have to bear.
With a resolute sigh, Roth said, “I’ll talk to them. But I have to know everything first.”
“Even we don’t know everything,” Ignis admitted, hating the sound of the words as they came out of his mouth. It was not something he liked to acknowledge. “We know he is the prince. We’ve… seen that he has inherited his father’s powers. And it has become clear that the Empire is not content to leave him be. There isn’t much else to say.”
Roth disagreed. “Who else knows?” he asked.
“A number of Kingsglaive and Crownsguard,” Ignis told him. “And the Tenebraens, including the Oracle.”
Frowning, Roth added, “And the Empire, seems like.”
But was that true? Wouldn’t the Empire have sent better than one daemon (and a few troopers, none of whom had lasted long) if they knew for sure that the prince was in Meldacio? Gladio seemed to know what Ignis was thinking. He said, “Nah, probably just an educated guess. They’d be here in full force if they were positive.”
“And how long will it be now?” Roth asked, staring accusingly into Gladio’s eyes. “Now that your cover’s blown. The closest base probably isn’t an hour away by airship, and word doesn’t travel much slower. They could be on us by sunrise.”
“We’ll be out of here by then,” Gladio claimed, but it was too bold.
“How is that supposed to help anyone now?” Roth said, while at the same time Ignis laid a hand on Gladio’s arm and said, “That’s too soon. You saw Noct. He’ll be in no state to travel.”
The same way Ignis disliked admitting that there were gaps in his knowledge, Gladio hated being helpless, or worse yet: stuck in a position where any help he offered would still not be enough. He growled, irritated, then took a deep breath to clear his head and emotions. “We have to prioritize Noct, no matter what that looks like,” he told Roth. “We’ll get out of your hair as soon as we can, and obviously we’ll defend the town while we’re here. So just… put up with us a little longer. Please.”
Roth rubbed a hand over his face, a sure sign that he was fighting off a headache. He probably regretted ever being charmed by the two of them in the first place. “I don’t have much choice, do I,” he said. “I’m no Imperial sympathizer.”
Ultimately it was as simple as that. No matter how angry he was with the situation they’d brought upon Meldacio, Roth wasn’t willing to do anything that might aid the Empire. Ignis had never got the feeling that he cared at all about the royal family; most outlanders didn’t, especially those young enough to have never been protected by the wall before King Regis’ father retracted it. But Roth was old enough to remember the wall being pulled back, and probably the betrayal he and his people had felt when suddenly they were left vulnerable to daemons and Imperial attack. That he didn’t hold as much a grudge against the line of Lucis as the Imperials was good enough.
“What can we do to help?” Ignis asked, glad to at least be past the point of fighting for the space they currently occupied.
Now that they were on the same page, Roth seemed able to focus again on the task that lay before him: managing the people of his town, who’d been stirred into a frenzy by the recent events. He thought about it a moment, then asked, “Are you still trying to hide it?”
“Can we?” Ignis asked Gladio, who’d been in the crowd most recently.
“Not without pretty blatantly lying,” he replied. “It’s gonna be hard to pull the wool over people’s eyes, and they’re gonna be pissed if we try.”
An angry populace was not generally a favorable one, but it could be helpful in the short-term if it kept their focus distracted. “Then we let them be pissed,” Ignis suggested. “Perhaps they’ll fight among themselves and we can do what we need within the confusion.”
Roth shook his head. It wasn’t necessarily that he didn’t think it would work, but he didn’t seem to like the idea. “I won’t lie to my people if I can help it, and stirring them up isn’t going to help in the long run. Maybe that doesn’t matter to you anymore, but it does to me.”
Could telling the people the truth be anything less than disastrous? But then, did it really matter, when things were already worse than they’d ever been? How much worse could it be? What could happen? The people wouldn't burn the town down in their frustration. They probably couldn't get a hand on Noct, with the number of Crownsguard waiting in the wings. Really, at the moment, the worst thing they could do would be to let slip the truth to Noct before Ignis had a chance, and the walls of Roth’s home were thankfully thick enough for that not to be a real threat while he was sequestered inside.
“Tell them what you will, then,” Ignis said, “as long as you can handle the fallout.”
Instead of belligerently arguing that he was going to have done that anyway, Roth just nodded and went to the door, where he took a moment to steel himself before slipping out and shutting it firmly behind him.
As soon as they were alone, a mass of tension faded from Gladio's shoulders and he grabbed Ignis in a hug, which helped relieve some of his own. “It's alright,” he murmured into Ignis’ ear.
Ignis didn't have it in him to believe that yet. “Are you unharmed?” he asked, running a hand along Gladio’s shoulders as if to find some grievous wound that had somehow escaped his notice. He only found a lingering tension.
“Just a couple bruises here and there,” Gladio answered, gesturing with his aching arm. “Lot less than I shoulda gotten away with.”
Of course Ignis never wished any harm on Gladio, but he didn’t argue the point; he knew where he was coming from. If either of them could have taken Noct’s wounds for him, they would have done so with no hesitation. It hurt almost worse to see Noctis in pain, and as badly as the shame washed over him, Ignis knew it was twofold for Gladio, to have only saved Noct’s life when he should have kept him from all harm.
“The doctor said he’ll be fine,” Ignis told him, though he had inevitable doubts as well. How could he be fine when a demon had gotten its claws in him, literal or not? “All we can do is wait.”
“And then what?” Gladio stared at the bedroom door, though it gave no more answers than it had a few minutes before. “What the hell are we supposed to do?”
Ignis stepped back far enough to look at Gladio and watch him think. “You seemed to think we should leave, a few moments ago. Where did you expect to go?”
“Anywhere,” Gladio said. He turned to Ignis and shook his head. “But I don’t actually want to leave. I like this place. Hell, I just about love it. It’s as much home as the city ever was. I can’t think of a place I’d rather be.”
Over the years, Ignis had come to feel the same way. Insomnia was their origin, but Meldacio had become their hometown. It was the place they’d raised Noct; it was the place where they’d fallen in love. So many misunderstandings had been born there, and their subsequent eventual clarity. So much work had gone into their modest house, into turning scraps into a home they could be proud of.
But that was already gone, wasn’t it. The home they’d put so much love into was in splinters, and the friendships they’d forged with the locals weren’t likely long for this world either. And it would be okay, because none of those things were important in the end.
“I’ve become fond of it myself,” Ignis admitted, “but it didn’t need to be Meldacio. We could have settled anywhere and we would have made it home. Wherever we go next, it can be home as well, if you’re there to make it so.”
“...Yeah,” Gladio agreed, giving Ignis a melancholy smile. He knew as well as Ignis did that their togetherness was a driving force for their choices; it always had been. It was why they’d fled the Crownsguard to begin with, why they’d hidden. If they could hide again, maybe Ignis’ statement would still be true, but that was less and less likely as the time drained from between their fingers.
“We needn’t decide right this moment. Let us take some time to breathe,” Ignis suggested, leaning lightly against Gladio. They were both feeling weary, but as expected Gladio seemed to feel a little more energized with the weight of someone he loved on him. “Perhaps we ought to inform Cor first of all.”
Gladio leaned back into Ignis, and it didn’t seem like he was eager to move anywhere, except perhaps to a couch or bed. “Yeah, but who’s gonna brave the crowd to find a messenger?”
“It’s getting late,” Ignis said. “I’ll venture out when the crowd thins. They’ll have to sleep eventually.”
They couldn’t hear the conversation going on outside; Ignis hoped that meant Roth had dragged the assemblage away from the house, if he couldn’t get them all to head home immediately. With any luck, he’d be busy with the crowd for a while yet, leaving the Scientia family to themselves long enough to gain their bearings. With a glance at the bedroom door (still shut, with the faintest mumble of conversation sounding from behind it), Ignis went to the little kitchen to help himself to Roth’s supply of coffee, then dragged two dining chairs next to each other in lieu of a sofa he and Gladio could rest upon. They leaned against each other, taking advantage of the quiet moments to summon as much energy as possible, and whatever courage they could scrape up, while they stared at the two doors, either of which could open with any kind of news at any moment.
It was the bedroom door that opened first, nearly an hour after they shut it behind them. Prompto sidled through it, looking as nervous as the lot of them surely felt. “The doctor’s almost done,” he told them, keeping his voice low as he crept over to the kitchen. “Noct fell asleep a few minutes ago.”
“Guess that means he’s not in too much pain,” Gladio said. He stood up, energy returning to him upon hearing the update. “Think he’ll wake up if I check on ‘im?”
Prompto ducked into himself somewhat. “Um, I dunno,” he said awkwardly. Gladio took that as fair enough permission and let himself into the bedroom as carefully as he could. Once he was gone, Prompto turned and looked at Ignis with an expression that bordered on fearful.
The look plucked at Ignis’ heartstrings. He moved the two dining chairs slightly apart, then patted at the empty one for Prompto to join him. “Thank you for watching after him,” he said to the boy, who perked up just a little bit from the praise. He kicked his legs, some combination of pleased, embarrassed, and worried. “How does he seem?”
Prompto shyly met Ignis’ gaze for just a moment before he looked away and said, “He… seems fine.”
“Truly?” Ignis asked, skeptical to say the least. “‘Fine’ is one of the last things I’d expect him to seem.” He ducked down to catch Prompto’s eye. “I have a feeling you’re trying to protect him, but you know he doesn’t need protecting from us.”
He took a long moment to think about it, all but confirming that Ignis’ guess was correct. There was certainly something that he was not saying, and for the span of a quiet minute Ignis thought he was going to keep the secret to himself. Then, finally, Prompto said just above a whisper, “He’s scared.”
“Is he?” Ignis replied gently. “It’s alright if he’s frightened; it was a frightening ordeal. We’ll understand if it takes him a while not to feel afraid.”
“It’s not about the daemon,” Prompto said, shaking his head.
Was it not? What could be scaring Noctis, if not the memory of the terrifying creature who’d attacked him? His wound? The doctor had said he’d be okay, but maybe it was still frightening to be in that much pain. Or maybe, despite Ignis’ best efforts, Noct had realized that Crownsguard Markus had died trying to protect him. He’d hoped that in the chaos of it all perhaps Noct might have failed to notice that the man’s wounds had been mortal (and fairly immediate, as far as Ignis could tell).
Or maybe it was something else.
“What is he afraid of?”
Prompto’s brow furrowed as he apparently fought with himself over telling or withholding the truth. Would he trust Ignis with Noct’s secret fears? Ignis hoped desperately that Prompto knew he could tell them anything, that the boy had come to see his two adoptive parents as more than just ‘okay, for adults’. He knew Prompto was closer to Noctis than anyone, but he’d thought he and Gladio came in at a close second. Maybe it was not close enough?
It was only a few slow, deep breaths before Prompto finally said, admitted, “He’s afraid of you.”
Ignis’ heart froze in his chest, an icicle of fear lancing through him. “Me?” Prompto shook his head. “Gladio and myself? Why? What reason could he have to fear us?”
Whatever it was, Prompto clearly shared a fraction of that fear. As if approaching the gallows, he bit his lip and said, “He’s afraid what you’ll think when you find out…”
Even without the end of the sentence, it all made immediate sense to Ignis. The fear melted, dripping ice-cold down his chest with a shiver, uncomfortable, but only as much as he… thought he might deserve. “His… eyes, you mean.”
“Yeah,” Prompto said warily. “You saw them?”
They’d been blaring that anxious crimson at him when Ignis had finally reached his side. Oh yes, he’d seen them, and he doubted that he was the only one. But that wasn’t what Prompto needed to hear. “I’ve known about that for a long time. He needn’t worry that Gladio and I will judge him for it.”
With an exaggerated frown of confusion, Prompto asked, “You already knew? Then… you weren’t… upset about it?”
That didn’t seem to be exactly what he wanted to ask, but Ignis could only guess at what words he’d thought of using, and answer accordingly. “I was surprised when I first saw it,” he admitted, “but of course I wasn’t upset at Noct. It isn’t his fault, and it isn’t something to be upset about.”
“But isn’t it weird?” Prompto stared into Ignis’ eyes, like he was begging him to understand, but afraid that he would. “Aren’t you scared?”
“Do you think I should be?” Ignis asked delicately, and when Prompto couldn’t seem to answer he asked, “Are you?”
“No!” Prompto shouted, immediately looking abashed at the noise. He shrank and added more quietly, “I’m not scared of Noct! I know he’d never hurt me.”
Nodding, Ignis asked, “Do you think he would hurt me? Or Gladio?” Prompto shook his head. “Does Noct think he might be a danger to us?”
Prompto responded with a nervous shrug.
Did Prompto not know what Noct was thinking? Or did he not want to say? Maybe Noct himself did not fully understand his own fears. “It isn’t just Noct’s eyes that trouble him, I assume? Is it something to do with the fox he said he saw?”
“I don’t think it’s that,” Prompto answered, adding, “and I haven’t actually seen it! I think it’s invisible.”
The fox didn’t really bother Ignis. Honestly, seeing it was by far the least bothersome of Noct’s possible abilities, now that they’d concluded it was a helpful spirit, and now that he was old enough not to carelessly call upon it in public (if such secrecy mattered anymore). “Was there something else, then? Something he saw or did that bothered him?”
There was another long pause before Prompto said sheepishly, “He… made things disappear.”
“...I see,” Ignis replied, rather at a loss for words. Whatever he’d been expecting, it certainly wasn’t that.
In a nervous ramble, Prompto continued on. “Remember when you were mad at him for losing his school notebook? He didn’t actually lose it. It disappeared right out of his hand! He’s lost at least a dozen pencils that way! And the training sword that went missing? Yeah, um, that was what happened.”
As soon as Ignis visualized the sword disappearing from Noctis’ hand, the explanation clicked, and he found himself chuckling.
“Um, why is it funny?” Prompto asked nervously, looking at Ignis like he’d gone crazy.
“Well it explains why so many things have begun to go missing,” Ignis said, shaking his head. “I suppose this started about a year ago?”
Prompto nodded, but he wasn’t concerned about the timing. “You’re not mad, or… worried? What if… what if he made the whole school building disappear? With all the people inside!”
Ignis barely restrained a snort. “I very much doubt he has that kind of capacity. I’d be rather impressed if he did, as long as he could bring them back.”
“Bring them back? But he can’t. They’re just gone.”
“He should be able to. I suppose it might require some training,” Ignis told him. A hearty frown overtook Prompto’s face; he’d clearly lost the train of thought that Ignis was following, and it occurred to Ignis that the boy had no point of reference for what he’d been seeing Noct do for the past year. “You’ve never seen a Kingsglaive soldier, have you?”
Prompto shook his head, and that was no surprise to Ignis. Cor, or whoever was handling the deployment of their protection to Meldacio, had probably thought about how flashy the ‘glaives were, with their summoned weapons and glittering shields. They were well-trained fighters, but the king’s magic gave them a serious edge, as well as made them a target. Even back in the city, the average citizen had no reason to see them use their abilities. Spying one in Meldacio would have raised eyebrows and questions, so it was better that they’d been served largely by the magicless Crownsguard instead.
”Disappearing their weapons is one of their abilities,” Ignis explained. “Of course they have to learn to summon them again.”
“So Noct’s a Kingsglaive?” Prompto asked, sounding relieved. “We thought… well, we thought it might be a daemon thing.”
It was no wonder they were scared, then. “Good heavens, no,” Ignis said, throwing his hand up over his face, mortified and somewhat darkly amused. “Have you been worrying about this all year?” He shook his head; he didn’t need Prompto to admit to that. Sighing, he decided it had been long enough now, that they’d all been living under various delusions. “Prompto. Noct is not a daemon, and no, he isn’t a Kingsglaive either. He’s the prince of Lucis.”
Not unexpectedly, Prompto’s mouth dropped open, and he looked from Ignis over to the middle-distance, where he stared at the story forming itself in his eyes. Then his gaze slid back over to Ignis. “Then you’re the king?! Or, wait, Gladio?” He looked comically bothered that one of his adopted fathers might have been the king all this time and he’d not known it.
Now wasn’t that an idea. A snort startled its way out of Ignis. “I’m afraid not,” he said. “It would be quite a different story if Gladio or I were king. But no, the king died many years ago. That is why Noct is under our care.”
“...Wow.”
“Indeed,” Ignis said with a sigh. Prompto’s simple response covered it quite well. It was hard to overstate the weight of the situation.
“Um…” Prompto looked up at Ignis, biting his lip. “Does Noct know?”
Did Noct know that he was the prince? That his real father was dead? That Ignis and Gladio were not truly his parents? That the strange things he could do were blessings, not curses? Did he know that the world was revolving around him, placing all its concerns on his young shoulders?
“We’ll soon find out.”
Notes:
Added a few more chapters to the total again, and frankly I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to add a few more. ^^; I really honestly thought I'd finish this fic before the end of the year, but as it turns out I'm not that great at estimating what has now become easily my longest fic. Oops?
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